Christmas Shoes
by LoveKricket
Summary: They were eyes meant for someone who could steal you heart in a single look and at the same time make you feel so safe that you never wanted to look away.
1. Prologue

**Christmas Shoes**

**Prologue: First Encounters**

Kurt x and a surprise!

It is a little O.C. in the prologue, but it'll work out in the next couple chapter and have all the gleeks. Just, stick with me. ;)

Just worked out a time line: After "Teenage Dream" but before the Karofsky Confrontation. I'm thinking before the kiss...*mwah*

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or this line* , Blaine does, because hes, like, ubber smarticle.

"**Kurt, there's a girl at the door saying you owe her a date and a new pair of shoes..."**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Once upon a time, Kurt Hummel met the most gorgeous boy to ever walk the earth. He was, Blaine, the cute prince, was the soul reason Kurt was to be found wondering the men's shoe department. It happened to be next to the women's department, which was bustling with mothers and children, and beside the doors that lead from the main mall to the parking lot.

He could feel the curious eyes of the females on him, the lone male in the shoe store. But he didn't particularly care. The cute face of Prince Charming repeatedly popped into his head, giving him subconscious advice on different shoes.

Designer Burberry sneakers, as his best friend would say, _hell _to the no. The Louis Vuitton sneakers? Slick black leather layered over the shimmering white, crisp white laces, the perfect runner. The perfect shoe.

Kurt ran his finger down the side of the boxes, attempting to find his size, which proved to be impossible because it seemed to be the most popular men's shoe size out there. He glanced up, looking for the sales clerk he had seen prowling to customers. She seemed to be helping a girl, about his age, locate a box that varied on the men's side.

He waited patiently, and soon the clerk was free, the girl was paying at the counter, looking very pleased in deal. He started to walk over when he heard a startling familiar voice, freezing him in his spot.

"Hey boys, look who it is!" The group of young men taking a short cut to parking lot, stopped in the aisle, their red and white, smelly and sweaty, letterman jackets invaded the store, swelling in the aisle and crowding around the small boy.

Kurt's eyes glazed over the five football players, resting between each of them as the women turned away from their shoes to watch the confrontation. He gulped quietly, thankful that the deep blue scarf hid the nervousness of his throat from the guys.

David Karofsky, one of Kurt's main tormentors stepped forward, glancing at the others as they separated to fill the empty spot in the wall. "What do you want, Karofsky," Kurt demanded, placing his small fist on his petite waist and glaring at the boy, hoping the less than friendly words would stop the advancing threat.

No matter how intimidating it may have been to the members of Lima Elementary School, it had no effect, what so ever on the muscle heads, who, shockingly enough, had a very similar IQ as those in Elementary.

"You scared Lady Face?" Karofsky snarled, pushing his face closer to Kurt's and breathing his foul, hot, dragon-breath over the pale skin.

"Scared? Of you? You're as scary as a Lepidoptera!" Kurt snarled back, trying to get out from between the body and the wall of shoes.

"Hey, fag," the word slapped him like a freezing ice drink. Which, unfortunately Kurt had become accustom to, "I don't like your _tone_." Thick fingers pushed him heavily to the ground, thumping painfully and scampering back to the wall. "Come on boys, we're outa here!"

The boys spun and strutted out of the store, leaving shocked women and Kurt on the verge of tears; in _public_. The store seemed to be motionless, no one moved, and Kurt looked to the scuffed floor, embarrassed and ashamed.

Soft hands grouped at his shoulders. Not painfully so, but gently drawing him to his feet. He looked into intense green eyes of the girl who had been occupying the clerk before...

She took his cold hand in one of her own and pulled him towards the door, sending a glare at the room full of people before pushing into the mall. She dragged him past a few stores but turned sharply and sat him gently at a table, "Stay right here, I'll be right back."

Kurt was a little dumbfounded, how he had gone from happily shoes shopping, to almost crying to being rescued by the princess. What...if she was the princess, Blaine was the Prince Charming, what did that make Kurt? The Damsel in Distress? It certainly seemed that way, as of late.

"Latte, Italian for expensive," the girl said as she slid into the booth across from him, pushing a cup, scarily similar to the open that Blaine, Wes, and David had gotten for him after he finished 'spying'.

He placed his hands around the Styrofoam, clinging to it like it was his life line. The girl across from him just sipped on her drink, sparkling eyes closed and breathing to calm. Kurt watched her for a minute before matching his hallow, short breaths to her deep, calmed inhales. His eyes even slipped shut, banning the embarrassment and focusing fully on the caffeine before him.

"You're going to be okay?" She asked, reaching a hand across the table and brushing his fingers. Kurt's eyes flicked open, the girls head was cocked to the side, blonde bangs brushed into her eyes that weren't filled with pity, or scorn, only compassion.

"Yeah-" he cleared his throat and looked to the fingers, stilled at his hand, "Yeah...i just really wanted those shoes."

The girl grinned and retracted her hand, placing it, in front of her and taking another sip of her drink, swishing it around, through her teeth and over her tongue before swallowing.

"Don't let those boys get to you, they're just..."

"_Prejudice is just ignorance_."*****

Her eyes widen and she smiled, "I've heard that one before."

"It would be good advice..."

"If they weren't such... Been there, done that sweetheart." She sighed mournfully, resting her cheek against her hand and rolling her eyes, experienced. "My names Addison, Addie, by the way," she jetted her hand out and shook his quickly, grinning ear to ear.

He pulled his hand back and smiled to the wooden table top, "Kurt," he added, for good measure.

Her light brows shot up her forehead, hiding beneath her bangs, "Jiminy Crickets! _You're_ Kurt?" he nodded, hesitantly, his own brow furrowing as she nodded and looked at him with different eyes.

"Uh...?"

"Hmh? Oh nothing," she – Addie – said, twisting her wrist to look at her _watch_. He was pretty confident they stopped making those a _long_ time ago, "Anywayyys...I gotta get back to work..." she slid out of the booth, taking only her drink, "Consider the shoes a gift. You owe me a drink!"

Kurt digested the words and spun in his seat, "-what?" but the curious girl disappear from the door way, leaving him confused and dazed.

He frowned at the coffee and pulled the shoe box over the table, flipping the lid open and peeking inside; it held pink and purple running shoes, complete with matching laces.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

A few days later, the scene from the mall completely gone from his mind, Kurt Hummel could be found sitting at his vanity, inspecting his perfect hair and wishing for something to do. Mercedes was hanging out with her brother who was down from Columbus; Finn was out with Mike, Puck and Sam. Artie was hanging with Brittany and Santana for some reason. Tina and Quinn were doing _something_. Kurt...Kurt was doing _nothing._

"Kurt?" His fathers head popped above the stairs, frowning, "Kurt, there's a girl at the door saying you owe her a date and a new pair of shoes..."

A girl, at his door? Demanding a date...and _shoes_? "Okay, one sec..." he muttered, turning to double check his bangs. They were remarkably perfect. He started to head up the stairs, but his eyes flittered to an empty shoe box. He grinned and ran the rest of the way, sliding to a stop when he seen the girl laughing with his father.

Burt threw his head back, laughing to the roof and she grinned, catching hid eye through the living room and giving a shy smile.

"Addie!" Kurt smiled, waving.

She waved back and Burt looked between them, "Kurt Hummel! Would you like to dine with me?"

"Yes, please! There's nothing to do!"

Burt crossed his arms and looked humorlessly at his son, eyebrow cocked up, "I believe you promised to finish the laundry...about an hour ago..."

"Dad," Kurt tried not to whine, but he could tell his attempted were fruitless.

Addison grinned lopsidedly and played with her zipper, shrugging to the side, "You finish up, and we'll meet at Breadsticks in say, an hour?"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Kurt walked into the restaurant positively _glowing_. He hadn't realized how much he wanted to see the girl again. The girl, who, admitably wasn't gay herself, not that he knew of, but she seemed to be (outside of his immediate group of friends, his father and Blaine) uncaring that he was gay. Like it didn't make a difference, that he didn't deserve all that bull shit that the bullies dished out.

He glanced around, looking through the tables for the blonde hair, the green eyes. He found her, facing him in a booth, and nodding and grinning, as usual, to a companion who was hidden from the tall back of the chair.

Addison looked away from the boy and waved him over, standing out of the booth and letting him slide in.

He looked at the table before deciding that it may be polite to greet the other. His eyes slid from his side of the table to the other, up the navy blue blazer, the fire truck red trimming, and white shirt, blue and red tie.

Kurt felt his face break out in a smile when he met the hazel eyes, the thick eyebrows, perfect hair... "Blaine?"

"Kurt?"

"Blaine!"

Addie chuckled and waved a finger, standing at the end of the table and resting her fists against the wood, "Kurt! Blaine! Blaine! Kurt! KurtBlaineKurtBlaine! Kurt, meet my darling brother, Blaine. Brother dear, meet my new fabulous friend, Kurt. You're both lonely and gay. Discuss!"


	2. Today's the Day

**Sorry for the super extended delay. I fractured my wrist, so it takes me for ever to type stuff out. Thank god its my left one – I can still write! And also I had no idea how to continue it. I don't believe in plans ;P **

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter One: Today's the Day**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee; I'm not clever enough to come up with little purple purses popping out of mouths. I don't own the **_**italics**_** paragraph either, I got it straight from a quote. (L'ezu Atelier - fibre2fashion) but I won't say anymore because I don't wana spoil it.)**

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

As the leaves start to fall from the trees, you know the seasons are changing. The temperature starts to descend. Each day it gets colder and colder. The days get shorter and the nights longer. Slowly it becomes winter and the weather becomes bone chilling. One morning as you're on your way out the door, you feel the real chill. The kind of chill that means Winter is here. The temperature has finally hit freezing. As your body shakes from the cold your nose starts to run. There is frost covering everything. It's as if everything is frozen. You start to clean the ice off your car as you notice a few snowflakes falling from the sky. It starts as just a few maybe ten or twenty as the day goes on it slowly picks up. The anticipation is thrilling.

This afternoon, one of a cold winter's day, when the sun shone forth with chilly brightness, after a long storm, though it had looked so dreary and dismal, drifting downward out of the gray sky, it had a very cheerful aspect, now that the sun was shining on it.

Kurt Hummel found himself, on this drab day to be firmly planted in front of a wide window of a small Lima store, divided from all the others by a white fence from the street, and with a pear-tree and two or three plum-trees overshadowing it, and some rose-bushes just in front of the parlour-windows. The trees and shrubs, however, were now leafless, and their twigs were enveloped in the light snow, which thus made a kind of wintry foliage, with here and there a pendent icicle for the fruit.

The large binder, so full of plans and ideas, seemed to be busting at the plastic bindings. It seemed to be quite a chore, keeping all the papers in place inside the rings. But as the slim fingers drummed across the dark blue and a shy smile took the place of a frown Kurt sighed wistfully. He knew that somewhere, under the sparkling sun, kids were rolling the snow together, tossing it happily at others.

Winter, in Kurt's mind, was the best of the seasons, even if it only lasted a few months in Ohio. The snow, the cold it made everything look new and clean and sparkly. Christmas just wouldn't be the same without snow. Weddings just wouldn't be the same in the summer.

That's where he was now, by the way, in My Lady. Lima Ohio's own little wedding gown shop. The single decent clothing shop in Allan Country, Ohio.

For the bride to stand out, the most important part to her is her wedding gown. The most amazing piece of clothing that she'll ever wear. Every woman dreams of that "perfect" gown. Although, a wedding wouldn't have that finally special touch if it was not for that perfect gown, the one that everyone will be talking about for a lifetime. Picking out that perfect gown takes time and effort. One has to decide on the cultural, formality, color, size, style, material, accessories, money, coordinating with the rest of the wedding, and finally, trying to please everyone's taste. 

Kurt sat across from an elderly, withering woman who wore the deepest scowl he had ever seen. Every time she looked at him his skin would crawl. Right now he could feel her beady little eyes boring into his skull, try to figure out just what a young teenage man was doing helping his step-mother to be pick out a wedding dress. Senior Mrs. Hudson scared the begibies out of him.

Carol had just come out in an off-white, cleverly elaborated ball gown and hand-beaded corset. Kurt thought it looked lovely, but the skirt came just slightly above her ankles, and they wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect.

"It makes you look like a stumpy dwarf," as Mrs. Hudson had said. Which proceeded glares from a close to tears Carol, and exhausted My Lady employee and a furious Kurt.

He had been so thrilled when Carol asked him to come. Felt so...accepted. Sure, his father said that Kurt could do the planning, but, really, who else would do it at such a short notice? Finn?

An hour and a half later, Kurt was ready to murder the old lady with his blue Bic pen. She shot down all the dresses and wouldn't tell them what she was looking for.

"Hey! Hey you! Boy!" Kurt rolled his head off his current position (staring out the window, head in hand) and blinked at the senile woman.

He was about to ask just _what_ she could _possibly_ want when Carol walked into the room, smiling, glowing, the perfect picture of excellence. She looked absolutely fabulous, and this was the dress. The Dress. The employee followed closely behind Carol, narrowing her eyes slightly when Senior Hudson shuffled in the seat.

Kurt placed the binder on the window ledge, taking a second to ensure that it wouldn't fall, scatter papers on the floor and create devastating mess. Like the other day, curtsy of Finn. Carol swayed into the room, brushing the light, classic veil slightly away from her rosy, grinning cheeks.

"So? What do you think?" Carol enquired, wobbling in a turn, showing off the dainty over coat.

Kurt bounded out of his chair, completely ignoring the elder, "Carol, you look _fabulous!_ It's perfect!"

"The gown is made out of Italian silk in a diamond color that flatters you're mothers complexion. The pleating is diagonal, elongating her figure and enhancing the waist line. Another feature of the dress is a shrug made out of French cotton lace embellished with clear and white beagle beads." The sales clerk, sensing a sale, announced, flourishing her hand over each mentioned part.

Kurt clamped their hands together, the diamond of the engagement ring pressing tightly into the calloused pads that were his palms, "Do you love it?"

Carol nodded, eyes glossing over and dazzling white smile, once again, over taking her face, "I really, really do, Kurt!"

"We'll take it," Kurt said, folding his arms around his step-mother and nodding at a grinning sales clerk.

The walker squeaked and the three of the groaned, knowing what was coming, "Hold on one minute, bucko! Let me see!" Carol stood, still like a statue, as her evil mother wobbled around her, nodding and grunting. "Well. You're not that young, so it's the best you'll find."

And from Senior Mrs. Hudson, that was a blessing.

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

As the last guest left the wooden doors of the chapels, the four Hummel's let out a long sigh. Grinning ear to ear; smile reaching their eyes, making it an honest smile. It had been one hell of a long night.

Finn couldn't quite comprehend that they were now a family. That Kurt was no longer his almost step-brother, but was now his _official_ step-brother. Burt was no longer the guy who dated his mom. He was the guy that was his step-father. The reception had been beautiful. No thanks to his brother. Dancing with his mother hadn't even been embarrassing, dancing with _Kurt_, a boy, hadn't even been embarrassing.

Kurt couldn't believe that he had finally accepted Carol as his mother. She would never, could never, replace his own mother. But the whole in his chest had been filled. The one that had been there for far too long. And Finn singing to him (And Rachel and Carol) had been such a treat.

Burt and Carol led their boys into the chilly night, grinning up at the twinkling stars and at the moon lit snow. They stood in the middle of the doorway, staring up at the sky, on sort of a high. Burt finally found the sense to pull off his coat and drape it over his bride's shoulders, leaving a casual arm stretched over top and allowing her to rest her head upon his broad shoulder.

The parents started to move towards the parking lot, not noticing that their feet hurt from dancing, or the tiredness that had settled into their bones. Kurt dropped his gaze to his parents and smiled softly, wrapping his arms around the better part of his torso. He willed his feet forward, dragging his heels quietly through the snow.

He wished that he wouldn't have to return home; his father and his mother deserved a night alone on their wedding day, but what choice did he really have?

_Whap!_

Cold liquid mixed with his fine hair, dripping to his shoulders and creating little caves in the snow beneath his feet. He stared towards his parents, who, by now, had slid into the warmth of the vehicle. Clad with white ribbons and a 'Newly Weds' banner strapped across the back window.

He ran a hand through his hair, the back of his neck gathering in a spawn of goose bumps. The snow melted against his reception-warmed hands, dripping from his fingers to the ground. Kurt spun and pointed an accusing finger at his brother.

"Finn!"

The taller of the two scuffled his feet, pushing the snow into a tiny bank, looking a bit ashamed, but he couldn't wash the smile off his face. "Sorry, bro…"

The sound echoed between the two, engulfing the night with the foreign word and dissolving the goose bumps. Finn shuffled forward, snow caving into his black shoes, covering his dress pants in a fine white powder. He passed his brother, head bowed and picking at his nail. He almost felt bad, but, at the same time, he felt it was necessary.

For the same reason a return fire met his broad back, leaving a circular imprint of snow in the dead center.

Finn spun and stalked back to his paling friend, who was backing up quite hastily. "Brother Dear," Kurt pleaded, glancing over his shoulder at the approaching snow drift, "Think about what you're doing." But these words had no effect, for Frankenteen had grinned evilly, teeth flashing in the light of the street lamp. "Don't you da-!"

The rest of the sentence was lost as the boy went flying backwards. Finn wasn't on the football team for no reason; he could give a mean tackle. The snow drift parted for the warm bodies, caressing them only as they rested against the frozen ground.

Kurt pushed the heavy teen off himself, rolling him deeper into the drift before stumbling back to the icy pavement and brushing the snow from his coat, his pants, his shoulders, his hair. Finn stumbled out, much less gracefully but grinning much wider.

"You'll pay for that, _bro_."

"I'm shaking."

"I know where you sleep, Finn."

"Like five feet from you? I wasn't sure if you noticed."

"You take up, like, half the room. How could I _not_ notice?"

"You missed a spot," Finn said, skipping forward to catch up with his brother pointing vaguely to a clean spot on the black suit.

"Where?" Kurt, always the fashionista, panicked and brushed his hands down the fine material, looking for a spot that hadn't been swept off.

"Right…here…." Finn giggled, smacking his brother on the top of his head with a clump off snow before dancing backwards towards the parking lot.

Kurt gasped, shaking his head in attempt to rid the cold flakes from his hair, before glaring through the darkened night, "You're so going to pay!"

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

Tired feet thumped down the stairs, shaking the white wood, melted snow dripping to the paint. Shinning point black dress shoes thumped in two pairs at the bottom of the steps, larger shoes bordering the smaller ones, black laces weaving and crossing in an un-kept manner.

Black jackets were shed and hung carefully in a shared closet, a pool of water slowly gathering on the tile bellow them. Socks and shirts and shorts were thrown into a black wicker basket, dampening the clothes beneath them. Ties were hung over chairs, pants soon to follow.

The brothers stumbled in the semi-darkness to their separate dressers, eyes slumping half-shut and yawns engorging their rosy cheeks. Kurt sat on his bed and slowly pulled on his black and red flannel bottoms, hands trembling with a yawn every few seconds with buttons of the top.

Finn, on the other hand, had given up on trying to find a clean shirt and, instead, crawled under his blue covers, pulling them to his chin and snuggling deeper into the feather pillow that his brother had insisted on. Though he couldn't see anything, not to the lack of light, but because his eyes refused to open, he could hear the small boy fold himself under the duvet.

"Hey Kurt?"

The respond was slurred and slow in coming, "Yeah, Finn?"

"I'm really glad you introduced our parents at that parent-teacher thing."

"So am I."

Finn paused for a moment, waiting for the soft sighs of sleep to creep from the other side of the room, "And I'm really glad you don't have a crush on me anymore."

"Me too."

"When do I get to meet that Blaine guy?" Wither his younger brother had fallen asleep, or used the morning hours to fake sleep and avoid the question, Finn would never know. Though he was pretty sure, a few minutes latter, in his practically asleep faze, he heard a mumbled '_never_'.


	3. Hypothermia

**I apologize for the shittyness of this chapter. I am not at all pleased with it. Okay, that's not true. I had a lot of fun writing it. But it was way outside my usual style. And it kinda got away from me. Oh well. Im super sick, im in bed and it's a snow day. The one day I would get to stay home and its -48 out. Enjoy my fail attempt at a fluffy filler. Also, Please Review. **

**I always, **_**always**_** want to but 'oh' at the beginning of dialog. So sorry if you see a lot of it.**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Two: Hypothermia**

**Disclaimer: I doesn't own Glee**

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

"Finn, honey? Have you seen Kurt?"

Finn looked from the living room couch to the kitchen, watching his mother as she puttered around the small counters, throwing odds and ends into a large mixing bowl. His stomach growled when she peeked into the oven to check the double chocolate chip cookies. "Isn't he in his room?"

He had only just woken up, mostly by the bustle his mother was making in the kitchen. Carol was still glowing with the newly bridal radiance, hair pulled into an elaborate bun, soft curls floating down her flushed cheeks.

In all the sixteen years of his life, Finn could never recall when his mother ever looked so happy. Not even when they ordered the grass dye. Not when he scored his first touch down. She was continuously glancing at her hand, and he suspected that it wasn't because she got flour on it.

"No, he went out with Artie for lunch, but he said he'd be home by one."

Well, the ancient coo coo clock claimed that it was quarter to five, and Kurt was never late. Not when he promised his father he would be home to help make the bake sale cookies.

"Well, I'll just call Wheels and ask then," Finn decided, watching as the re-run of football switched to a Pepsi commercial.

"Thanks, bud."

Finn nodded and caught the black phone in the air, dialing the number without bothering to look at the little address book that landed beside him on the cushion.

Ring...Ring...Ring... _"Hello?"_

"Hey, Artie. Is Kurt there?"

"_No. We left Breadsticks at one. Why?"_

"He's not home yet. You're sure he's didn't go over there?"

"_I think I would notice._"

"Yeah, I guess you would... Okay. Thanks, Artie. See you on Monday."

"_Bye Finn."_

Finn clicked the phone and placed it on the cradle next to the couch, a frown taking over his face. He stood, stretching his back out and walked into the kitchen. "Artie said he left a while ago."

Carol's head snapped up, a delicate frown taking away from her happy exterior. She continued to knead the bread; hopefully for cinnamon buns. "Hmm..."

"Is Burt up yet?" Finn asked, anxious to see if his father had pans for the weekend. Like maybe a get away for his wife for a weekend away from home, maybe even a honey moon.

Oh, there's a thought that can make you nauseous before breakfast.

Carol hummed and hawed, taking a moment to stroke the delicate wedding band, "He had to go out to the garage. Finn, I wanted to talk to you boys about something. But seeing as Kurt's not here, you'll have to relay the message."

Finn clicked the mute on the television, swiveling on the couch to lean against the back. His mother blushed at the anxious look and focused her gaze on the slowly raising dough, "Burt was thinking that we, him and I, would go out to Columbia for a few days...their having this cultural festival and we though it might be fun to go to it. If you don't think you can handle being home alone though..."

"Mom," Finn laughed, coming around the couch and crossing the short distance to his mother, enfolding her in a hug, "Go, have fun. Live a little!"

Carol hugged her towering son back, stepping away and glowing spectacularly, "Thanks, honey. Burt's going to swing by after lunch to pick me up. Please don't burn anything down."

"I won't, Kurt will make sure of it. If we can find him..."

"Oh. I'm sure he's fine. He probably just found a good sale." Carol sounded unconvinced, much like she was trying to not only convince her worried son, but herself as well.

Finn nodded, attempting to accept the obvious lie. He backtracked to the living room, scooping up three cookies and pecking his mother on the cheek. She was probably right; hell, she was a mom. She was always right; but as he watched the game, he realized something else. "It's Sunday, Mom. Everything's closed."

The truth behind the words sent a cold shiver down the taller boy's spine. If Kurt wasn't with Artie...and he wasn't shopping...what had happened to him?

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

His porcelain hands shook with the cold, but of course, he hadn't brought the mittens. It was only the middle of November, for Christ Sake! And, or course, his vehicle choose today to break down.

He had already waved good bye to Artie and Mr. Abrams. It had been a nice surprise, when his wheel-chair bound friend called him up and asked Kurt to join them for lunch. He hadn't heard hide nor hair of his friends since his mellow dramatic announcement of transfer.

New Directions had been giving him a cold shoulder. Not that he blamed them, but they would never understand. Never understand that as long as Dave Karofsky was going to McKinley he would be second guessing his steps. All the time. He had no intention to tell anyone, besides the people he had already told anyways, what Karofsky had done.

His freezing fingers gripped shakily at the wire, trying to find the source of the shut-down. The snow continued to drift in flakes into the open hood, piercing his uncovered ears like tiny daggers.

It had to be one o'clock, so he decided that he would go ahead and call his father to come pick him up. His father and mother wouldn't be leaving for their half-honey moon for at _least_ a half hour. He still felt a little bad that they wouldn't be going on a vacation, but, really, who wanted to spend the holidays sweating?

He patted his blue tinged fingers over all his pockets, trying to remember where he had put the phone.

Realization donned on him, and he slammed the hood shut, growling as snow bounced up and was carried by the wind into his face. He walked around the wide frame of the vehicle, hunching his shoulders in the cold air and peered into the driver seat window.

There it sat, warm and humming with a text message on the console. Kurt placed his freezing hands on the handle, skin aching from the cold of the metal. Only to find it locked, the keys dangling uselessly from the ignition.

"Damn it!" he yelled, filling the air around him with the curse and a fog of warm breath, "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" He kicked at the hard rubber wheels, furious tears burning to his eyes. The snow circled heavily around him, making him wince through his freshly frozen eyelashes as a sleek fire truck red car pulled up.

A figure, taller than him and half as wide as the door, stepped out of the car, placing a woolen mitten to their eyes and peering over the shining metal. "Kurt Hummel?"

The majority of his name was lost in the wind, carried in the white of the blizzard to uselessness. He looked warily through the snow, almost recognizing the figure until it disappeared once again behind the snow.

"Yes?" The reply was hesitant; what are you supposed to say when some one calls your name in the middle of a blizzard? Someone you didn't quite recognize, in the middle of an empty parking lot.

The figure ducked into the car, and Kurt stood, frozen, quite literally, as the passenger door was thrown open. "Get in!" He shuffled around the tinted windows, peering warily into the interior.

Crisp eggshell white leather, he looked over the seat to the girl behind the wheel. Blonde hair sticking out from a hideous neon blue woolen hat, icy blue eyes rimmed with red, freckles dark against the pale skin. "What are you _wearing?_" was all he could ask, taking in the rest of the outfit.

The yellow and white winter parkas, making her look like a giant marshmallow even when he knew she was dangerously thin. Bare legs, not blue with cold, but red with heat, covered only in a thin spandex material.

"Oh, just get in."

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

"There's his car!" Rachel screeched, popping between Finn and Mercedes in the front seat and pointing accusingly towards the Bread Sticks parking lot. Nine of them had pilled into Carol's mini van, frantically looking for the missing boy. Santana and Brittany had volunteered to check down town, just in case.

Carol had left at two, and Finn used the land line phone to call anyone who might no where the small soprano might be. His mother had trusted that he could find his brother, and find his brother he would.

Everyone had been, surprisingly enough, worried for Kurt's well being. They all hated that he was going to leave, but at the same time, they could understand that they would never _fully_ understand.

When word had spread, straight from Finn's mouth that Karofsky had threatened to kill Kurt, even Puck had been apprehensive about the health of their...opponent? Santana even jumped on board with the investigation, taking her blonde counter-part with her.

Mike slid the door open and jumped into the cold wind, covering his eyes with the purple fuzzy mittens he had borrowed from his girlfriend and looking through the icy window into the interior.

The ice slowly melted from the window and he peered into the vehicle, looking for a body or a note...or something. He jumped back in the van and slammed the door, shivering from the moment of exposure. "H-his pppphones inn b-b-b-ut h-es nnnnot."

"Damn it, where else could he be?"

"Let's just go find Santana and Brittany." Finn nodded at his girlfriends prompt and slowly turned from the parking lot into the empty street.

"Yeah, Finnderella, don't get your panties in a knot. The fairies probably sittin' pretty in some fairy store."

Finn slammed on the breaks, causing everyone to slam forward, and he placed a hand behind Mercedes head, turning to glare to the back of the van, "Don't call him that!"

"Jesus! Alright, I'm sorry alright?"

The grip on the steering wheel only got tighter, white knuckled, as they continued to drive, rattling off places where his brother might be. He could be anywhere, and finding his car like that, dead and frozen, thinking like that did nothing for his nerves. Kurt could have been grabbed and kidnapped or he could he huddled from hypothermia in a dark corner of Lima. Or Karofsky might have found him.

He eased to a stop, just behind the red and white car, watching as the Cheerio's ran to the van, dressed thickly in layers upon layers of winter clothes. Artie opened the door this time, allowing the girls to stumble back into the warmth. Brittany sat on his lap, and Santana fell onto Puck's lap, not bothering to move between the two blondes.

"He's not down town. And the power went out."

"So it's really dark. Is Kurt afraid of the dark, Finn?"

He ignored the question, staring vacantly out the window. This was horrible. Not only was his brother transferring to an academy, he was missing too! Finn never could catch a break; where could his little bro be?

The windows quickly steamed up; the van wasn't made for holding eight people, let alone the extra Cheerios. He shared a glance with Mercedes, who fiddled with her phone, wishing he hadn't left it in the Navigator.

"Damn it, I wish we stayed longer..." Artie mumbled from the back, his wheel chair folded up tightly in the very back, Brittany's weight keeping him from throwing his fist around angrily.

"It's not your fault, Artie," Tina offered, resting her head on the other Asians shoulder, "Any of us would have left."

"Plus, you were the only one that would like, talk to him."

Santana words brought frowns to their faces, ashamed that they would treat their soprano so undignified. They were no better than the homophobic hicks at McKinley.

The van quieted down again, everyone trying to figure out just where their little friend could be hiding. Mercedes unbuckled and inched forward in the seat, peering through a circular whole in the fogged window.

Finn followed her gaze to three guys, heads bowed against the wind and navy blue blazers clutched tightly to their frames. He was about to ask her just what she was looking at, when the passenger door flew open and she jumped into the snow. Bolting after the men like a lunatic.

"What's Athena doing?"

"I have no idea..." Finn mumbled, whipping a large section clean with a gloved hand so they could better watch as she caught up the guys, who led her to side alley. They waited anxiously for their friend to come back out, but the minutes ticked away and the atmosphere within the van turned to utter chaos.

"Jezus frickin' christ. What is she _thinking?_"

"Maybe we should go follow her..."

"Who were those guys?"

"That's not like Mercedes."

"I think I want a snow cone."

"Finn, drive up there!"

"Great, now we need a replacement for her too!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up."

"I'm going to get her."

The attendance of the van turned to see, out of the ten of them, Santana stand and stumble through the mass to a sliding door. Her hand was on the handle, ready to jump out to save her friend when, said friend, turned back into the wind.

Finn watched as the three guys ran across the slippery street and pilled into a sleek black car. Than flickered his gaze to Mercedes, who had reached the van and hopped into the passenger seat. Cold waving off of her purple parka, nose running from the sudden warmth and a chattering grin on her lips.

"What the hell, Mercedes?"

"Who were those guys?"

"Did you get me a snow cone?"

"Are you fricken insane?"

Mercedes chuckled and shook her head, rubbing her red mitted hands together over her jean clad legs. "Sorry, I wanted to catch them before they left. That was Blaine...and...well, I actually don't know the other guys. They're from Dalton, you know? Where Kurt's transferring."

The van was quiet as they took this information in. Finn, honestly, wanted to murder them, if they encouraged Kurt to change schools. But the way Kurt talked about Blaine these days; he couldn't be a bad guy. He almost felt as if he knew the guy.

He turned, shocked as Brittany spoke up, "The guy from Kurt's locker?"

"Yup, Boo, that's him."

"I thought that was Courage. That's what the tag said..."

"Uh... no... That's _Blaine_." Finn wrinkled his nose when the name came out mocking and casual, making him think that it wasn't a secret topic. "They met when he went to spy for us. They're friends. Pretty good friends, from what I understand."

"What kind of friend?"

"Just a friend," Mercedes insisted. "Now follow them, Blaine has this crazy idea where Kurt might be."

Finn nodded, not really liking the idea of taking help from the supposed enemy, but if they had an idea, he was all for it. The black car peeled slowly away from the curb and down the empty street, taking obnoxious turns and crazy signals.

He listened with half an ear as Mercedes told them what she knew, not really caring, other than the fact that they were helping. And he already heard most of the story. The car pulled behind a beat up brick building, void of any cars, save for a snow covered red one, the Dalton boys, and now, the van.

The three boys ran from the car to a rusty old door, huddling inside and watching, with a surprised expression, as the eleven of them pilled out of the van. Finn led the group, Mercedes close to his side to the door.

"Clown Car much?" One of the boys asked, Finn peered into his face, memorizing it so he could go all big brother on it later. "Uh...David," he offered a hand, which Finn ignored. Partially because it seemed the cool thing to do; and partially because he couldn't feel his fingers.

"So, Kurt is supposed to be here?" Mercedes broke the silence, looking around the over filled boot room, eyebrows disappearing behind her hair line.

"Well, it's pretty logical that Addie abducted him..."

"Who's she?" Sam barked from the back of the group, shuffling closer to his girlfriend so the glass door could close firmly behind him, cutting off the cold draft.

"Why would she abduct him?" Finn asked the shortest boy, Blaine, Mercedes had whispered in his ear.

"Uh, she's my sister...and she heard about the wedding and got all...hormonal over not being invited. I wouldn't be surprised if she's got him up there doing a play-by-play."

"You live here?" Puck scoffed, looking around the small room, lit only by the dying sun outside the building. The yellow wallpaper walled, peeling.

Blaine opened a second door and motioned David and the other guy through it, shaking his head, "No. My sisters nineteen, she lives here by herself."

"Addie's sweet shit, she can abduct me any day."

"She wouldn't want your greasy ass, Wes. Besides, I thought you were going out with the Whitney chick."

"Oh yeah..."

Blaine rolled his eyes and offered Finn a hesitant smile, catching the less than friendly rolling from the group. Finn looked down at the short boy, searching his eyes for something. Trust maybe.

What he found startled him. Fear, worry. Not that Blaine was scared of Finn, necessarily, but rather if Kurt wasn't here, where could he be? The big brother inside of him found what he was looking for, and he offered a tight smile, brushing past the hobbit-like boy and leading his friends behind the two oddities ahead of him.

The fourteen teens followed each other up a few flights of stairs, past an occasional door, but they Dalton guys continued to lead them up the cold, cement, flight of stairs. Mercedes followed closely behind Blaine, playing a round of twenty questions that Finn couldn't quite make out because of the scuffling of feet.

"This would be a perfect spot for murder," Artie mumbled, carried between Sam and Mike, Santana close behind, carrying his chair.

"You're right, we could just shuck you over the railing..." Sam threatened lightly, but Finn could hear the wariness in his voice.

His breath started coming in short bursts when someone stopped at the front of the line, pulling open a puke green door, "Here we are...Ladies first."

Mercedes glanced suspiciously at the boy holding the door before continuing through it into another hallway, flickering with a dying over head light. A single metal door, paint chipping off of it, pounded with music.

Blaine chuckled and slid through the group, knocking against the blue paint, but the music continued to play. Heavy on bass and words being screamed so loud that Finn couldn't figure the song out. And he knew a lot of songs; since he joined Glee his iTunes bill had increased ten fold.

"She can't hear the door..." Wes mumbled, stepping forward to twist the shining metal knob and throw the heavy door open. Thirteen of them peered into the room, eyes bulging and mouths dropping.


	4. Crazy Bin

**Not going to lie. Blaine, and David and my future hubby Wes **_**totally**_** pissed me off last night. GRR. I felt so bad for Kurt after his audition, and embarrassed when he first got introduced…god that was mortifying. Oh, and stupid fricken bird, I called it dying though. HAHAHA. This makes me wayyy to excited for the Christmas eppie, though. Because, baby, its cold outside. Yah! PUMPED!**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Three: Crazy Bin**

**Disclaimer: Nope I haven't come up with enough cash to buy it from Murphy just yet… but magical brushes! I just bought one. **

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

The room was nothing like the rumbling outside; it was classic and modern; sleek and shiny; messy, but at the same time tidy. But that's not what they were staring at. No, the teens seemed to be much more interested in the pair of flush-faced dancers, bouncing on the black flannel couch, heads moving up and down, hair flying all over the place.

Finn let out a startled breath of air as Kurt bounced off the cushion to the bright blue carpet, apparently rocking out on the electric guitar. His usually perfect hair waving up and down in the cold air, baggy black tee slipping off his shoulder and feet stumbling a bit in the over large sweat pants.

"Oh sweet Marry and Jesus..." Mercedes yelled, though it sounded more like a whisper in the loud bass line.

"This can't be good."

Blaine pushed through the surprised teens to the stereo, speakers pounding with the loud noise. The noise was cut off, and they could hear the panting breath from the sweating teens.

Kurt's mouth popped comically open, eyes bulging with embarrassment when he spun to see his audience. The girl, on the other hand, turned on the couch to glare at her brother, jetting her hip out and running a hand through her long, platinum blonde hair.

Frowning, she stepped on the back of the couch, sliding down the spine and striding over to the stereo and slapping the hand away from the volume knob, "What. Are. You. Doing?"

"We did knock..." Blaine offered, cowering away from his older sister, who eyes seemed to shoot daggers into his soul.

"We were dancing!" Finn glanced to Kurt, who was frozen in the middle of the room, eyes still wide, and face heating with embarrassment. It was strange, that he had been fooled into thinking his brother only listened to show tunes, but, in reality, he seemed to really be enjoying the loud stumming, the thick bass, the screamed words.

"Oh, is that what you called it?" Wes led the way into the large flat, ushering the rest of the teens in as well. The girls' ocean blue eyes widened when she seen the crowd.

"Yes, Wesley, that's what it's called."

"Don't call me that!"

"You barge into my home, unannounced, with a bus full of children, I get to call you what I like," she stocked towards him, David inched away, closing the distance between him and Sam, and Finn was sure that she was going to punch the tall, dark hair boy. But instead, the girl pulled him into a hug, tiptoeing so she could rest her chin on his shoulder. "Haven't seen you in a long time. Hello, David."

"Hey, Addie."

"You brought me friends?"

Kurt seemed to come out of his overly shocked system and rushed to the girls' side, avoiding their accusing eyes, "Uh, that's my ... Glee club. Uhm, all eleven of them, it seems."

"Well, the more the merrier! Come in, Come in! Make you're self at home!" She ushered them in, bright smile lighting up her face so she looked half-crazed. "I'm Addie. And you are?"

"Finn, Puck, Sam, Mike, Tina, Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Artie, Mercedes, and Rachel..." Kurt offered, pointing at each of them.

The smile faltered a bit, but Addie nodded eleven times, "Right," she said, clapping her hands together, "Never going to remember those, but whatever."

Addie strolled away, pointing her toes and clasping her hands behind her back, in a military march manner. Finn wasn't sure what to do, because he still had no idea who this girl was, and because there was a certain atmosphere to the place that he couldn't quite identify.

Kurt grabbed Finn's arm and Mercedes hand and towed them towards one of the four couches. What a nineteen year old girl needed _four_ couches for, no one knew. "What were you thinking? Disappearing like that?" Mercedes barked when they had been seated on the corduroy cushions.

Finn watched as David threw a gamer remote to Sam and Puck, sitting on the floor in front of a large television screen that hung between two windows on the brick wall. Puck and Sam shrugged and sat on two red bean bags that flanked the game cube, and the other guy, Wes, joined them as well.

"What?" Kurt asked, honestly confused by his best friends lack of manners. He ran a hand through his bangs nervously, fixing them and smoothing out the rest of his hair. Finn smirked when his gaze flittered to Blaine, who was trying to start a conversation with Quinn, but she was listening for Kurt's answer. "I didn't! My car broke down-"

"Yeah, we found it," Finn offered, quieting under the glare of the divas.

"And Addie found me and took me to clean up and stuff."

"You could have called someone!"

The look of confusion was back, but this time Addie joined in, "We did. Actually we stopped by the shop and talked to his dad before they left for Columbus. Burt said he would tell Carol... He said it was fine."

"Oh. We couldn't get a hold of him..." Finn turned on the cushion, wrapping his arms around his brother in an awkward hug, "I'm really glad you're alright."

Kurt pushed him away, blush creeping up his neck and he smoothed out his clothes, eyes flickering to Blaine and Addie, who watched the exchange with smug smiles. "I was never in any danger, other than my clothes, which are soaked, and my fingers, which I fear have died."

Kurt wiggled his finger, pinched and wrinkled, still tinged a light blue. Mercedes pulled her best friend into a comfortable hug, whispering in his ear. Kurt glanced around the room, eyes taking in each of his friends, surprise evident on his face.

Finn didn't blame him. At all really, because twenty-four hours ago, most of them were still fuming that he was ditching them for the opposition. But here they were, making themselves at home in a strange girls home, all glancing at Kurt every few seconds, to make sure he wouldn't disappear again.

They were going to miss him.

A loud ringing set through the apartment and everyone glanced at each other, trying to locate the annoying sound. Addie jumped and spun, grinning again, "Ohhh... pizza's ready. Come get some food!"

David and Wes jumped up, pausing the game and racing to the far wall, where a small kitchen was set up, an island separating it from the rest of the flat. Addie laughed as she plucked not one, not two, not even four, but _five_ pizzas from the oven and shucked them on the counter.

Finn, Kurt and Blaine followed more slowly behind the crowd of teenage boys that rushed forward at the mention of pizza. Finn walked beside his brother, making sure to keep him in arms length, for he wasn't quite over his near heart-attack experience.

Keeping half an eye on Blaine, he smiled in the most un-Finn like manner, happily noting the way the chocolate brown eyes narrowed and searched Kurt for any sign of abuse, looking for any indication that the taller saprano was anything but perfect. Older Brother in Finn seemed to be warming up to this strange, curly haired boy.

In fact, he was starting to see how transferring to this Dalton Academy might be a good thing for Kurt. Very good indeed. Even if everyone else that went there seemed to be ludicrous.

Finn jumped in line, the heavy aroma of red sauce, melted cheese and pepperoni wafting through the house, reminding him that he never did get one of those cinnamon buns. When his plate was covered in four slices of pizza, he backtracked with Wes and David, who seemed very much at ease in the oddities home.

"Expecting company, sister dear?" Blaine laughed, following behind Finn, his own blue plate full.

Addie walked out of the kitchen, smiling softly, a cup in her hand, but no pizza. She sat on a window ledge, back pressed against the ice, and smiled secretively, "No? Why?"

"Somehow I doubt Kurt and yourself could finish off five pizzas."

"Sure I could!" Finn dropped his eyes to scan the room, where everyone seemed to have one of the plastic plates on his or her lap, biting into the hot food smiling contently. David stood to grab more pizza and Kurt quickly took his spot, laughing at something Wes had whispered into his ear.

Blaine sat on a table pushed against the outside wall, quietly chatting with Artie and Brittany, nodding happily and biting his slice occasionally. Sam, Quinn and Puck were playing merrily at the television. Everyone seemed to be comfortable in this house.

Well, almost everyone.

Rachel sat on the edge of a third couch, eyes narrowed and glancing between Blaine, Wes and David. Finn sighed and stood, nodding politely when Kurt looked at him with curious eyes. He plopped beside his girlfriend on the armrest, dangling his arm lightly over her thin shoulders.

"Stop looking at him like that, Rachel!" Kurt glared at the chair, and Rachel stiffened, shifting her gaze from the Dalton boy to look out the window.

Tina crossed her ankles and leaned heavily on her boyfriends shoulder, handing him her empty plate, "Can't really blame her, after the whole Jesse fiasco."

"Blaine isn't Jesse. And I'm not going over there to give them your set list. So don't even worry about it. I don't even think I'm joining the Warblers."

Wes gasped over his pizza, staring at the Kurt like he was insane, "But you have to! You're voice is like soft velvet-"

"And you'll look so _hot _in our uniform that we simply wouldn't be able to focus if you're not by our side!" David added, chuckling when Blaine tossed a piece of pepperoni at them. Finn glanced at the owner of the apartment, but she was gazing out the window, brows drawn in a sad frown and completely oblivious. Much like Kurt was oblivious to darkening of his 'friends' cheeks, and the hinting laughter from the insanities.

Rachel's shoulders softened, "Kurt, you don't have to not join them. I wasn't sure about Blaine, nor Wes and David, at the beginning. But from the short time I've known them, they obviously care about you," he eyes flickered to Blaine in particular, and he rolled his eyes dramatically, "You have my blessing to join the Warblers."

"Our blessing. You have _our_ blessing," Quinn smiled from Sam's lap and a chorus of agreement met her words.

Kurt's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, pinpricks at his soul, but he smiled, "Ah, you guys!"

"Enough of this sad talk, you people are making me depressed," Wes stood from the floor and cracked him back, grinning wickedly, "Besides, we don't need to cheat to beat you."

Mercedes scoffed from Kurt's side, retracting her arm from his shoulder and crossing it over her torso, "Please, boy, those adorable old people are going to kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?" David demanded, joining his friend and scooping two cases off the ground, "Your choice, DDR or SingSong!"

The room looked to Rachel as she stood and shed her jacket, glaring across the room at the two uniforms, "Please! Dance Dance Revolution. We already know we're better singers than you."

"Oh, it's on!" David dropped to his knee, flashing his white teeth, a popped to game into the system, pulling two plastic mats from the side, "Kurt, get over here. You're one of us now!"

Kurt bounced off the couch, adjusting the baggy tee on his shoulders and running fingers throw his hair, and "Somehow, I don't think the teams are equal."

"You don't think five verses eleven is fair?" Blaine asked, grinning evilly and crossing the room to the 'Dalton' side.

Santana stood strutted over to the other side of the room, "Screw that, I'm with the Warblers. They gots Mr. Sexy on their side."

The room erupted in laughter as she traced a finger down Blaine's chest, smiling cheekily. His face burned bright red as he stepped away from the Cheerio, bumping into David as he made his escape.

"Yeah, I'm gay."

While the room quickly ate this information, Finn's heart pounded in his ears. Blaine was gay. Out and proud. Just like Kurt. Maybe there was more to his transfer than the Karofsky threat.

"That can always change, sugar."

"I want to be on Kurt's team," Finn announced, cutting Santana off, standing and ignoring the shocked gasp from his girlfriend. He locked eyes with this Blaine character and walked over, head locking his brother playfully. Keep your friends close, and you're enemies closer, right?

Kurt pushed away from his brother, stumbling backward to be caught by Wes before he hit the ground, "Were going to lose, now," Kurt claimed, pointing an accusing finger at his brother with a light frown on his clean face.

Addie stood from the window sill, having kept quiet the whole time, "Stop you're flirtin' and get this game started. Get your head in the game, Bitches."

David crouched, once again by the consult and motioned for the first people to take their places. Wes grinned and elbowed through the Dalton side, standing next to Quinn on the mat.

"You're going down, Blondey."

Quinn blinked rapidly and pouted, distracting Wes from making the first step.

"Oh, that's not fair!"

"Alls fair in love and war, Wesley."

"Shut up Addie!" "Damn it, I'm blaming losing on you."

"Whatever, you just suck."

"You give it a shot, then, Mr. Sexy."

"Fine, I will. Let's show him how it's done, sir."

"Go Blaine!"

"Go Sam!"

"…Sam!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I've never played before."

"Whatever let me show you how Ms. Brittany SPeirce does things."

"Britney Spears?"

"Oh, show her how it's done!"

"Sorry, Santana. Even though you suck at dancing, I still think you're really hot."

"Geez, thanks."

"Watch out people! It's Frankenteen!"

"Finn, just so you know, when you lose, it doesn't mean I don't love you."

"Keep it in your pants, Berry."

"How does your girlfriend beating you make you feel Finn?"

"Shut up, Kurt!"

"Hello there, prepare to meet your match."

"Ah, hell ta the no, Academy Boy"

"David! How could you loose to a _girl_."

"You can't beat pretty ladies, it's, like, against the law."

"Ready to meet you match, Asian?"

"You wish, Gash." "Maybe giving you to the Warblers will benefit us in Sectionals."

"I'm reconsidering letting you join, with those horrible dance skills."

"I tripped okay? Mercedes messed the mat up…"

"'Suze me?"

"Oh. Showdown of the Sexies."

"No one beats the Puckasaurse!"

"Breaking News from Lima, Ohio. The Puckasaurous met a terrible end today, courtesy of Mr. Sexy."

"This is the Tie breaker, people! New Directions' infamous Mike Chang!"

"You haven't seen Addie dance."

"..."

"…"

"Woah."

"Hold frick! This is the longest run yet!"

"Addie!"

"What! My feet hurt!"

"And New Directions takes First!"

"Booooooo."

"Oh! My! God!"

"Santana! The guy with the butter knives coming!"

"Brittany! Get. Off. Me!"

"Hello?"

"What just happened?"

Finn waved his hands wildly in front of his face, wondering why his eyes suddenly stopped working. He heard people stumbling around before the fireplace roared to life, lighting the large room in its flickering glow.

"Guess the powers out again." The group slowly slouched back to the couches, plopping onto them and resting their worn feet. Addie wondered around the feet, picking up empty plates and plastic cups.

"Sorry about the mess, Addie."

"It's alright; I was the one that suggested feeding a bunch of teenagers. It's worse than feeding time at the zoo." The girl disappeared for a few minutes, and Finn tucked Rachel closer to his torso, enjoying the brisk air of an open window and the warmth of the fire.

The room lapped into quietness upon her return. Everyone taking a breather and resting their feet. The sun had set behind the tall building, basking the town in darkness. It was oddly peaceful in the small condo. Sitting with friends, still grinning ear to ear from the exhausting game.

The time ticked by and the calming silence slowly turned into awkward silence. Finn struggled to come up with something to say; Kurt struggled to peel his eyes from Blaine's uniform - blazer free torso. Addie was staring into the snow again, her eyes haunted, and the couples were in each others' laps, and the other two Warblers started a quiet burping contest.

The silence was finally broken by Wes, shaking the room with silent laughter. Starting the conversation flow and drawing eyes to the subject.

"So...Addie...I really like your spandex..." Wes wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the people giggled, looking at the bright blue short shorts.

Addie plucked a red pillow from beside her feet and nailed the laughing boy in the face, spitting out a playful reply "The overwhelming power of the sex drive was demonstrated by the fact that someone was willing to father you."


	5. How Does That Make You Feel?

**I wanted to use this random spot I put random things in to thank you all so, so, so, sooo much for the reviews, favorites, and follows. Each one makes my heart soar with happiness. So, you should like, do all three! **

**And also, as sad and pathetic this chapter is, it had to be done. BUT (even though apparently no one noticed) my muse is back, and my regular writing with it. So yay.**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Four: How does that make you feel?**

**Disclaimer: Uh-Uh...**

**XxxxX**

The weather wasn't getting much better. In fact, if anything, it was getting worse. Mother Nature seemed to make it her goal in life to match Kurt's life to a tee.

First day of attending Dalton Academy: bright and sparkly. The fluffy snow hardened to a glistering shell, crunching deliciously under every step. The boys seemed friendly enough, a few of them taking the time between classes to stop and chat with the new kid.

Day Two, not as great, but only because Mercedes still wouldn't talk to him. Apparently, he had 'betrayed' them. The forecaster called for sun and nicer weather than the earlier day, and yet, he sat there, the buzz of lunch-time chatter ringing around him, but none of the conversations standing out. It was anything but _"sunny"_, in fact, it was quite the opposite; the light grey clouds filled the sky, betraying the weather-man.

And, unfortunately, it didn't get any better than for the third day. Not only did he humiliate himself for his Warblers introduction, he got stuck with a damned bird to. How on earth was he supposed to carry a bird through the quickly dropping temperature? He didn't even want to think about what would happen if the bird died...or worse yet, got loose.

Thursday, day four, started out with the sun peeking through the dark grey clouds, actually looking decent. Kurt took advantage of Mother Nature's momentary happiness by taking a spur of the moment trip to his old hell hole. To his immense surprise, the girl he had taken the quest for was to be found in the exact place he needed to be. And for a few moments, he hoped that he had picked the perfect song.

The snow had melted from the high branches of the trees outside the dormitories', dripping glittering tears to the ground. Blaines' liquid caramel eyes never left him, being the single beckon of light in the drab room. And yet, it wasn't enough. To...unique. It wasn't anything like McKinley, but that was a price he was willing to pay.

Except... it would be nice if a certain best-friends were there to vent to.

He knew, day five, that the weather would be horrible. He could feel it in his bones. It wasn't that he didn't love singing with Blaine, and Wes, and David, and the rest of the guys. But Rachel's face in particular shone from the crowd. He liked to think, on stage, that she was becoming a true friend.

And when she was the first to stand in applause, out of the crowd of _hundreds_, he couldn't help but grin like a fool.

And then again, as they stood there in a group of thirty people, waiting to find out who would win and who would lose, Kurt could feel the single beam of sunlight flare through the stainless glass window, he knew that New Directions had won.

But one ray of light turned into a flood of colorful light, filling the large auditorium with hope. He wanted to bounce up and down. Scream like a fool; pull his friends into a tight hug. Alas, the Warblers were much more dignified for that, settling for the classical handshake.

As they filed off stage, congratulating each other with a pat on the back, Kurt threw on a fake smile, thanking any and all gods that it was the weekend.

**XxxxX**

Kurt walked past the large full framed windows, smiling at his reflection when he seen the slick, shoulder length brunette hair. The sun had banished all the clouds, lighting the small town of Lima up with holiday cheer. Even if it _was_ a bit early in the season.

It was amazing, what a single decision could do. Amazing, and frightening. It could break apart the strongest friendships; but, it could also make the most strange of friendship.

"Kurt," Rachel sighed, dropping a half-eaten ginger bread man onto a black plate, relief evident on her face, "Thank god you're here."

He chuckled and unbuttoned his sweater, placing it daintily on the back of a black rimmed chair. Kurt reached across the table, placing his porcelain hand over the tapping, quivering, and newly manicured nails.

The small café was alit in an early red and green glow, the lights bouncing off the black tiled walls, twinkling in the Christmas decorations. Kurt surveyed the empty tables, about ten of them, and the large bakery window full with the usual Christmas bakery. The only thing that really caught his attention was the large wooden step, two black wooden stools and a large poled microphone.

"They have open mic here?" he asked, quite taken aback that the small town of Lima, Ohio would have something so utterly cool.

"Yes sir, the owners thought it would be a nice touch...no ones used it though..." a girl with bubble-gum pink hair stopped in front of their small table, notepad flicked open and fluffy pink pen bouncing lightly in her hand, "Can I get something for you?"

"Two mint hot smoothies with lots of whip cream and crushed candy canes...and a piece of the candy cane cheesecake. Please."

The girl nodded and stepped away, leaning back on her heel and wheeling away. Kurt watched, eyebrows rose in an appalled matter. "What kind of place did you pick out, Rachel Barbra Berry."

"I don't know," she huffed, her shoulders deflating and she glared angrily at the black table top, "It's called the Spotted Giraffe. But more importantly, no one should find us here."

Kurt smiled, finally understanding why she had picked the new, secluded café. "That bad, eh?"

"He keeps calling, and I don't know what to tell him. Mercedes called for the '_deats_', or something, and Brittany thought I got Laryngitis again. I'm so tired of having to explain myself to _everyone!_"

Kurt placed his moisturized hand back on top of the mentally unstable girls, sighing softly, "I know what you mean."

"I want to sing a solo. I do, but everything I sing feels so...fake."

"I know."

The waiter returned and placed three of the ceramic plates before them, large, wild mugs filled with steaming liquid and quickly melting candy crushed. Rachel wasted no time in grabbing a fork and shoving it forcefully into the off-white cake.

Kurt watched, with a sad amused smile hidden behind the neon blue hot smoothie, as the petite girl finished off the cake easily, licking the fork off with a small fraction of her solidarity sparking back into her hazel eyes.

"I feel a bit better now, sorry you didn't get any cake," Rachel lift the mug and took a hefty sip, whipping cream creating a small white mustache that was smudged away with the back of her hand.

Kurt placed his cup back to the plate, smiling across the table, "I have an idea... come on," he motioned for her hand, and when it was placed hesitantly in his, he pulled her to her feet, leading his towards the wooden stage.

"Kurt... I don't really feel like-" he ignored her protests, dragging her to the middle of the stage and nodding at the thumbs up their waiter gave them.

He sat her down on the stool, choosing to stand behind her and rest his hands softly on her shoulders, holding her in place, "Just pick a song...and sing."

Muscles stiffened in response, and she grabbed onto the microphone, angling it closer to her mouth and clearing her throat. Kurt wasn't to surprised, when she stopped resisting and opened her mouth, pure and innocent words flowing easily through the speaker.

_At first I was afraid  
I was petrified  
Kept thinking I could never live  
without you by my side  
But then I spent so many nights  
thinking how you did me wrong  
And I grew strong  
And I learned how to get along  
and so you're back  
from outer space  
I just walked in to find you here  
with that sad look upon your face  
I should have changed that stupid lock  
I should have made you leave your key  
If I had known for just one second  
you'd be back to bother me_

_**Go on now go walk out the door  
just turn around now  
'cause you're not welcome anymore  
weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye  
**_**Did you think I'd crumble  
Did you think I'd lay down and die  
Oh no, not I  
I will survive**_**  
oh as long as i know how to love  
I know I'll stay alive  
I've got all my life to live  
I've got all my love to give  
and I'll survive  
I will survive **_**(hey hey)**

**It took all the strength I had  
not to fall apart  
kept trying hard to mend  
the pieces of my broken heartand I spent oh so many nights  
just feeling sorry for myself  
I used to cry  
But now I hold my head up high  
and you see me  
somebody new  
**_I'm not that chained up little person  
still in love with you  
and so you felt like dropping in  
and just expect me to be free  
But now I'm saving all my loving  
for someone who's loving me__**Go on now go walk out the door  
just turn around now  
'cause you're not welcome anymore  
weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye  
Did you think I'd crumble  
Did you think I'd lay down and die  
Oh no, not I**_**  
**_**I will survive  
oh as long as i know how to love  
I know I'll stay alive  
I've got all my life to live  
I've got all my love to give  
and I'll survive  
I will survive**_** (oh)**_**  
Did you think I'd crumble  
Did you think I'd lay down and die  
Oh no, not I  
I will survive  
oh as long as i know how to love  
I know I'll stay alive  
I've got all my life to live  
I've got all my love to give  
and I'll survive  
I will survive  
I will survive...!**_

Go on now go, walk out the door  
just turn around now  
'cause you're not welcome anymore  
weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye

The spotlight dimmed, and a single round of applause shone through the espresso bar, surprising both Kurt and Rachel, because they were sure that the only person was the waitress.

The clapping slowly came to a halt, and they made there way down the steps to the side of the stage. A young man, thick black hair was leaning against the counter, supposedly waiting for a drink.

"Wes," Rachel greeted, a hesitant furrow building above her brow. Kurt looked away from the counter, feinting interest in the world outside the café. Rachel, bless her soul, caught on quickly and did her best to occupy herself with her cell phone.

It wasn't that Kurt didn't like Wes...he had been fun. Before, you know, the audition and Warblers and all that. Something about his playful exterior changed, just like Blaines', every time the Warblers were mentioned.

He looked a lot different out of his Dalton uniform. Tight baby blue tee, black jean jacket, ripped jean pants. Quite different. As it turns out, there were quite a many sides to Wes. He was even looking forward to finding them all out.

Continuing his people watching through the window, he shifted his eyes to check if Blaine or David were in sight. He didn't see either of them, which was quite the relief because he wasn't entirely sure if he could handle that right now. If he could handle the strange way the Dalton boys had been treating him.

Heavy metal screeched against the stone tiles of the floor, announcing their visitor. Kurt stifled a sigh and turned to look at the new friend. Rachel stared blankly at the perfect skin, not bothering to look away when he glanced at her.

For a millisecond. Other than that glance, he had his eyes trained to Kurt's every movement. It was quite nerve raking, really. To know that you're breathing was being registered and remembered. Clearing his throat, Wes finally spoke.

"I wanted to apologize for the Warblers. Seeing the New Directions, excellent by the way, they're a lot different from us. Colouful and bright in a way that we can never be."

Kurt cupped his hands around his mug, nodding, even though he already knew this information. "Wes, you don't have to explain it to me. I know."

"We know you know," Wes chuckled, sipping from his to go Styrofoam, "I just thought I'd apologize, for, you know, being a bit of a jerk and stuff..." I nodded, and withdrew his hands from his cup, feeling like a jerk for thinking Wes was a jerk. "And, just so you know, Blaine picked the song out."

Kurt watched his fellow Warbler walk out, wave as he past their window and continue down the street. He turned to face Rachel, who flashed her white teeth. "What does that even mean?" he mumbled, taking a sip from his lukewarm drink.

"Seriously, Kurt?" Rachel asked, rolling her eyes in a very Diva like manner and leaning her chair back, "Hey Soul Sister? It's about feeling a deep emotion for another person, connecting, colliding, with them on a whole other field! Another galaxy! Like _Jupiter_?"

Kurt blinked, looking at his deflated whip cream, "So?"

"_So_? So he picked it to sing. He sang it to you. He picked it to sing, to you, for you. Obviously he knew you were having a hard time dealing with everything. Even _I_ could see that. And I mess up all my relationships. Noah, Finn, Jesse, Finn..."

"Come on," Kurt, once again, pulled the girl to stand, pulling her over to the counter to pay and out the door.

Rachel didn't fight the loose grip on her wrist, following close enough that the connection went limp, "Where are we going?"

"To the mall," Kurt claimed, stopping slightly before running across the busy street to his Navigator.

"I know how shopping can cheer you up, but I don't really feel in the mood for it. I have no money to spend, and all I want to do it curl up with my favorite boys. Ben and Jerry."

Kurt tutted as he drove, shaking his head mournfully, "As much as I would love to shop, that's not why were going there. But you may get some of that icecream, I think I'm in the mood."

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel?" Rachel gasped, covering her mouth with frantic hands, eyes wide, "Are you saying you might actually eat that sugary, calorie filled, delicious ice treat? And _not_ kill your self after it?"

Kurt reached blindly over and whapped his fellow star on the head, scoffing. "It will go straight to my pair hips, but I do believe I will. I think I'll even go for the triple chocolate."

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Rachel leaned to the left, her shoulder bumping Kurt's lightly, "In the blue..." he looked in the direction she was faced, licking the frozen cream of the white plastic spoon. They were sitting at one of the tall tables at the wall, backs to the food court, eyes glued to guys as they walked by.

Kurt waited for the guy in the blue, the one that had caught Rachel's attention to turn, and when he finally did, Kurt all but spat out the melted milk. Simultaneously the couple shivered and winced, "Ew. Facial Hair."

"I'll remember to shave, then," A voice said from behind them, startling both of their bottoms off the red plastic of the stool and squealing. Kurt placed his cup like bowl onto the counter, swiveling to face their watcher.

Kurt was glad that he had placed his ice cream onto the counter, because, like Rachel's, it would have splashed to the floor. "Jesse? Jesse St. James?" she asked voice high and quivering.

"Oh, good. You do recognize me."

Kurt glared and fixed his bang, "What are you doing here? I thought you had a full ride scholarship."

"You're lack of hospitality isn't surprising. We were let out for Christmas break. My parents are still vacationing, but this is the closest thing I have to a home. Also, Vocal Adrenaline decided to have a reunion of sorts."

"You haven't changed one bit," Kurt spat, turning back to his ice cream and spooning it angrily into his mouth. Still bitter about loosing Regional's the year before.

"Neither have you. I had seen your performance at Sectionals. It was really very good. But when did you transfer?"

Curse him for being so kind, for being just like the old Jesse, who was almost sort of nice to him, for being there that one time...Kurt hated to hate him. "A week or so ago," he said airily, not really wanting to talk about Dalton just now. With him, Jesse, at the mall. Because talk like that would lead to if the people were nice, if he was making friends, if his friends were kind of jerks, and finally, who's Blaine.

Nope, not going there.

Rachel and Jesse talked lightly, about weather, and school and Glee club, professors, old friends, what ever their heart contented too.

Kurt gazed over the crowds, thick with the Christmas rushes, even if it was a month away. There was no dark, slightly curled hair, no short boys with navy blue blazers'. No one in particular that caught his attention.

But there was one...towering above all the rest, slowly making his way through the masses towards the food court, a single plastic bag swinging from his hand. "Uh... Rachel?" Kurt asked hesitantly, ducking a bit lower incase. "Rachel!"

"What?" she asked, frowning when she seen his bowed head and his melted ice cream. But the towering teen must have caught her eye, at the same time he spotted them. Finn's eyes clicked from a flustered Rachel to a wincing Kurt...to a confused Jesse.

The display of emotions over his face was almost comical, as he stopped in the center of the people. Confusion, happiness, realization, disappointment, sadness...and finally, anger. Rachel groaned and dropped her head to the counter top, sounding an audible _thump_.

Kurt glanced at Jesse, whose frown was deep and impassive, "They're fighting. I don't think you being here exactly helped the problem. Adding gasoline to a fire...if you know what I mean."

"Probably not..." Jesse placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder, offering a friendly squeeze, a nod to Kurt and took his leave, waving gracefully over his shoulder. Kurt draped his long arm over the shaking back, sighing profusely.

"Come on Rachel, let's get you home."

She slid off the stool and allowed him to lead her away from the spot, frustration clear on her face. "I wouldn't worry, Rachel. Finn's not all that clever, but he's not that dumb. He knows you wouldn't actually get with the slimy Jesse..."

"You think?"

"I know. He's a few bricks short of a wall."

"Thanks Kurt. For everything."

"Hey," he called, rolling the Navigator's passenger seat window down, "Happy days are comin'" Rachel smiled, nodded and headed into the door, hoping that it was true, but not seeing how it could be.

A single decision, a transfer. You would think that you would be able to keep all your friends, make new ones. Be neutral between two schools, two teams. But you can't have it all. No, you have to learn to juggle it all.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Kurt sighed and slammed the door behind him. He was staying in the dorms at Dalton. It was a lot cheaper, and gave him a few extra minutes of sleep. But it also meant Finn got the basement room to himself. Which, meant that every weekend Kurt would have to clean it. Five days was all it took for Finn to completely demolish it.

Kurt swooped and plucked a shirt off the floor, tossing it elegantly into the white wicker basket that served as their laundry basket. The door creaked open, and his fathers' bald head peeked through. Kurt waved, but continued to tidy the floor.

"Hey, Kiddo. Mind if we talk?"

Kurt nodded, "Sure dad, but I'm going to keep cleaning, if I'm lucky ill have it clean in time to enjoy the rest of my weekend."

"I'll try and get Finn on that," Burt offered, rubbing the back of his neck, and watching his son putter around, "You were really good at Sectionals, Carol and I are really proud of both of boys."

Kurt paused in his dusting of the television, thinking back to the dazzling light less than twenty-four hours ago. It seemed days earlier, but, really, he should still be celebrating. "Thanks." Was all he could think of to reply.

"Kurt? Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Are you liking Dalton Academy?"

Something in his fathers' voice plucked all the right strings, Kurt closed his eyes and pictured the school, snow fresh on the corners, green shrubs shining brightly in the sun. Kurt crossed the room, careful to step over the dirty clothes and garbage.

He slowly lowered his haggard body to the step below his father, feeling ancient and crippled with uncertainty. "It's just...taking longer than I thought to...adjust."

"Well, you know we, Carol and Finn and I, we'll love you were ever you are. But, maybe give it a few more days, before you make a big decision. But it is _your _decision."

"I know that dad, I know." Kurt sighed and rubbed his temples thoughtfully. He didn't regret transferring. He regretted something, but not that.

"Hey, what are we doing?" The Hummel's turned to look up the stairs, hesitant smiles sketching onto their faces when Finn blundered down the steps to them.

"Finn, this room's a mess. Help Kurt clean it up before dinner."

"Sure..."

Kurt stood and continued to clean off the couch, waiting for the door to click firmly behind his father before turning to glare at his brother, "Finn Hudson! What is your problem!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Finn ducked his head, slouching to the other side of the room and throwing the plastic bag onto the bed, "I'll try and keep it clean from now on."

Snorting, Kurt threw a pair of socks into the hamper, "That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about Rachel."

"What about _her_."

"Don't play dumb with me! She told me everything! You don't have to be such an...an ass."

"She told you everything, like how she slept with Puck?"

"No, she did not sleep with Puck. He called it off. You know that, so what, what could possibly be so horrible?"

"She cheated on me! She _kissed_ another dude, dude!"

"One. Don't call me dude. Two. So? You cheated on her that one time."

"That was different. We weren't official yet."

"Well, from what I understand you weren't necessarily together. I mean, you slept with Santana, she found out. You were on a break, Hudson."

"Why are you taking her side anyways? You usually just complain about her. You're my brother; you're supposed to be on my side."

"Why? Because out of all twelve of you, counting Schuester, only she called to see how I was doing! I haven't even _talked_ to my brother in a week. I've barely even seen you."

"You were the one that decided to go over to that other place. You left us just like Jesse!"

"Hey! You were the one that left last year."

"That was different my girlfriends baby-"

"It's practically the same."

"How's it different? I was betrayed by my girlfriend, and my best friend. You're just running from a bully!"

Kurt's frantic movements were stilled by that. His fingers tensed in the dirty white shirt, scrunching it up between his shaking hands. "Is that what you think? That I'm just a coward?"

"We could have protected you." Finn whispered, noticing the way his brothers' head fell, the way his shoulders slumped. "We wouldn't have let him hurt you anymore..."

"That wasn't the only thing," Kurt whispered, flinching back when he remembered the haggard kiss. The taste of fast food. The rough hands on his face, his neck. He remembered the way he pushed away from the second kiss. How Kurt had been frozen, in that sweat stank locker room.

Finn crept across the floor, watching as his little brother crumbled to the couch behind him, eyes haunted and mind elsewhere. He sank to the worn red cushion, staring into the flickering blue eyes. "What do you mean? He didn't like...stab you or something, did he?"

"No. Worse than that..." Kurt stood and walked over to his bed, not at all pleased where this conversation was going. It had defiantly taken a turn for the worse. His heart fluttered in his chest, so he whispered it. Whispered it into his pillow, where he was almost sure that Finn wouldn't hear, "...kissed me."

Kurt had never been so wrong, because Finn had heard him. But the flutter in his chest, to much like the little yellow Warbler, calmed to a stop and it no longer hurt to breath.

"He kissed you?" his brother asked, waiting for clarification, shocked that Karofsky was ... gay? Bisexual? Annoyed that he would take advantage of Finn Hudson's little bro like that, and shaken that Kurt had somehow managed to keep that a secret for so long.

Kurt, on the other hand, was just relieved to get it out in the open like that. Now he couldn't been seen as a coward. He flipped onto his back and pulled the blankets around him, huddling at the headboard. He smiled a bit at Finn, wondering where in the hell this conversation could go now.

Finn smirked and fiddled with his sweater zipper, "So... how does that Blaine kid feel. Karofsky beet him to the punch."

His reply was a face full of goose down feathers.


	6. Packaged

**I love you guys :D just sos yah no, please review, because it makes me so so happy. **

**And just so you know, I probably wont have an update for tomorrow morning, I gotta work till midnight, and somehow I don't think ill be in the mood when I get back, but you never know... and sorry for the double posting, the setup of my poem keeps screwing up..**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Five: Packaged**

**Disclaimer: Santa knows my list. I'll let you know after Christmas.**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

The frost had come over night, freezing to the windows in icy fingers and adding an air of magnificence to the large Dalton Academy Cafeteria. Kurt had somehow scored a seat next to the window, so he propped his feet up on the ledge and watched as birds hoped and pecked at the thin layer of frost on the green lawn.

His satchel had fallen to the ground beside the chair, his salad was on the chair side table, fork sprouting from the top, but otherwise untouched. His phone buzzed every once and a while with a curious text. An inquiry on how his day was going from Rachel, a stupid joke from Finn, something about an iguana, or a request for a lunch date from Artie, promising not to let him get kidnapped.

From what he understood from the lack of grammar in his brothers texting skills, Rachel and him had made up, though they weren't officially a couple...yet. Mercedes had called him for an inadequate twenty minutes the night before, apologizing for not keeping in touch and filling him in on the recent gossip of McKinley high.

Luckily for him, Finn had done as he promised and not told a soul about the Karofsky kiss. Kurt liked to think that it was a bonding brother minute, but he had actually promised to break all of the war games if he told anyone, leaving the only to be golf.

**U 8?**

Kurt stared at the text, a comical frown furrowing onto his tired complexion. (He had forgotten that there was a Shakespeare essay due today, and had stayed up half the night trying to decipher the foreign language.) He glanced at the full plate of salad and the empty cup of coffee before replying, _**Yup, delish. How is everyone this fine Monday lunch?**_

The phone vibrated again in his lap, and he hastily picked it up, although it wasn't his brother, it was Blaine. Kurt stared at the writing for a full minute, thumb pausing over both sides of the phone before he chose to just ignore it. What was the worst that could happen? Kurt was the very last contact on his list. If he even made the list.

Looking back, he decided it was a little ridiculous to think that whatever relationship they had at the separate schools would survive the transfer. Blaine had his own friends to talk to, ones that were there before Kurt came along, and ones that went through the thick and thin of elementary school.

**Ever1 gr8. ttyl, glee**

Stifling a sigh, Kurt pocketed the phone. Glee practice knocked out, pretty much, his whole contact list. Well, the important people anyways. He knew it was mean and judging and he didn't know the half of it, but if Blaine couldn't make time to talk to him every once and a while, than maybe he was busy too.

Kurt pulled out his iPod, shoving the buds angrily into his ears. Right, because he was swimming with free time. Even though the academics where at a different – higher – level, he was still excelling in all his classes, well, minus Advanced Physics, but it was very rarely that the elderly teacher gave homework. Which meant his time was everything _but _busy.

The back of his head itched, and Kurt just knew that the occupants of the large room were watching him. Watching the new kid; the new _gay_ kid; the new, gay, _loner _new kid. Life sucked some times.

The phone vibrated, shaking Kurt away from his music and pulling out the slick device. He unlocked it, smiling when the name came up. **Hey Kurt, try running with scissors. It'll make you feel DANGEROUS!**

_**Okay, Addie. But I'll have to find some that aren't safety scissors!**_ Chuckling, he re-pocket the phone. She always seemed to have her breaks at the perfect time. That was the only time -she claimed- she could text him, and when ever she did it was humorous little jokes (funny, unlike a certain brothers') or songs, sayings, something to bring a smile to his face.

He clicked the song over, growing bored with the birds flittering outside the window. Deciding to take action, he stood, collected his bag and his garbage and headed towards the common area's wooden doors.

Dalton Academy for Boys was not a public school, there for it was not a _normal_ school. That was by way of explanation, courtesy of Finn, why the building was so beautiful and magical. Red wood and mahogany doors that reached the ceiling (you needed at least a dozen students to open the front door) winding metal staircases, and rooms in singles, doubles and triples.

Luckily enough, Kurt got a double. However, it was a recently vacated double, so he had no room mate. Not that you would _ever_ catch him complaining, it meant for an extra closet; a definite bonus. His room, 183, was just down the hall from Blaine's single, 159, and the double room, 170, which held Wes and David.

Kurt unlocked his door, sliding the beaded keychain that Tina had made for his going away present, fashionably late, out of his pocket. It was a simple, small design. Black, of course, with a violet water lily on one side, and his name on the other. It swished easily in his hand, clicking the dead-bolt in and the door swinging open.

Like everything else at Dalton Academy, the rooms were classic and clean, and reminded him a lot of his own basement room. White was walls, deep burgundy feather down (under that was a pink fuzzy blanket that Kurt had managed to sneak from his Lima home to his Dalton bed) dark wood desk and head rest. These, most likely, were the reasons he had yet to feel home sick. And, probably, the fact that he talked to Carol or Burt for hours after dinner. Because, what else did he have to do?

There was that bitter, awful feeling he was learning to loathe. It wasn't Blaine's fault he didn't have a life. Or friends or someone to talk to... oh the list could go on...and on...and on. And none of it was Blaine's fault.

Kurt's mind was about to breech the subject of falling out of a crush when a persistent knocking came to the closed door. Stifling yet another loud exhale, Kurt walked to the door, wishing he could have a few minutes to himself, if only to deposit of his bag and take off his shoes.

His hand was on the door, music paused when he realized what he was thinking. Really, Kurt, _more_ alone time? Weren't you just complaining about not having enough things to do? Crazy hypocrite.

He opened the door to David's half-smiling face, Blaine and Wes piled behind him, "Kurt Kurt!" he chanted, swinging his fist in a childish manner, "The snow! It's sticking!"

"Great?" he asked, clearly confused why sticky snow was something to celebrate. It had been snowing for at least a week, if not more, clutching to the trees, the windows, _his clothes_.

Blaine's face, easily the happiest, the one Kurt focused mostly on; fell a bit, "Didn't you get my text?"

"What? Oh. No. My phones on...silent..." he felt his face flush; only hoping that the other boys wouldn't catch onto his obvious lie. "Uh, why?"

"Sticky snow means snow balls, dur!" Wes melted to the side, face blank and eyes accusing.

Blaine nodded excitedly, an overly large smile masking over his face, caramel eyes shimmering with anticipation. "Yeah! Snow balls!"

"Our Blaine," Wes said, draping an arm around said friends' shoulders, winking at Kurt, who was very confused, and David, who was snickering into chest, "He likes balls."

Kurt never realized that someone's face could go so red in such a short period of time. Kurt bit his bottom lip to keep back the laughter, clamping his teeth together to ensure that, as Blaine threw the arm off of his shoulders, he wouldn't scoff.

Blaine's eyes met his, and a bit of his insides melted painfully. The caramel spheres were wide and embarrassed, so Kurt shifted his gaze down, trying to spare his friend some amount of dignity. It was a horrible decision, however. Because, now he was staring at the pouted lips; chapped from the cold air, red from constant licking and completely adorable. How were lips adorable you ask? They just were.

Kurt backed away from the boys, tipping his head to the side and feigning regret. "Sorry, I have to work on my Physics, maybe next time..."

"You're getting, like, eighty-four in that class!" David objected, slamming his fist to the door to keep it from inching any closer to closed.

"And you can copy off of me," Wes offered, doing his best puppy dog face. Which wasn't great.

Blaine roll his eyes at his best friends and looked back to Kurt, all hurt and embarrassment gone from the orbs, "Come on, Kurt. We haven't seen you since Sectionals. All the guys are going to be there!"

"Thanks, but no. Go have fun." Kurt waited for a minute, ready to fight off any objections; but none came, so he slid the door firmly shut.

If there had been any thought of going; it was gone now. A singular _miss_ he might have gone for, but all the guys? Kurt didn't feel like one of the guys. And he wasn't ready to re-meet them all. No, maybe if it had been the four of them he would have gone. But all twenty some? No, it was much safer inside.

He crossed the room to the window, catching a glimpse of a small figure as they dove out of the way to avoid the hurricane of snow. His phone vibrated once again, and he groaned. He hated to lie. It made him feel sick to the stomach, being a liar. Especially when the lie was told to _Blaine_.

So, the end result meant lying on his stomach on the soft blanket, Physics book open at the spine, pen tapping to his chin as the music played and a page of notes, messily written and not at all helpful.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Kurt stared at the paper, confused on when he had written it. It must have been during lunch... but he doesn't remember writing it. Thinking it, yes, writing it no. Glancing through his eye lashes to make sure no one was around him, he used a light finger to trace over the angrier parts of it. The ink smeared, still not quite completely dry, enhancing the newness of it.

In a perfect world, he would consider the fact that someone had slipped it into his note book, but it was defiantly his loopy writing; between the pages of formulas he had been memorizing and the practice questions he had made up..

_Written with a pen  
Sealed with a__ kiss__  
_

_If your my friend  
please __answer__ me this__**::**__  
_

_You told me once  
But I __**forgot**_

Are we Friends?  
Or are we **not?**

At some points, the pen had almost punctured the paper, words underlined with angry strokes and others re-written in the same spot so many times that they started to invade the other lines.

Kurt just wished he could remember writing it. Remember the emotion behind it, remember the rhyming. It was a simple rhyme, sure, but he had never been one to write poems, and he was insanely proud about the success of it.

That is, until he figured out whom it was for. Blaine, obvious, really, now that he had realized it. Of course. He couldn't go a day without thinking about the short, curly boy. Kurt didn't want to be just friends with Blaine, he wanted to be more than that. The chances of Blaine feeling that way though...

No! It was defiantly the safer decision to pretend that the crush didn't exist. He wouldn't fail like he had with Finn. No, now he knew how to keep his emotions within grasp at all times, ready to through a few fake ones out, but more importantly, keep a few back.

Sure, he couldn't be romantically linked with Blaine, but he sure as hell could – would – be a good friend. Maybe he should have gone out in the snow...

Kurt ripped the page out hastily, folding and shoving it into the front pocket of his navy blue pants and smiling up at a dripping David. The tall, dark skinned boy returned the smile ten fold and plopped into the seat next to him.

"You should have come," he said, shaking more snow from his short hair to the linoleum ground, "It was great."

Kurt smiled and plucked a large chunk of the ice from his friends coat collar, dropping it disgracefully to the puddle, "Next time, promise."

"Cool!" David responded, instantly quieting as the professor (yes, another example of just how private school they were) walked into the room, and flipping open the too large text book.

With diligent, neat writing, Kurt copied down the notes, almost understanding all of it, which was a nice surprise. But when the teacher handed out a booklet of problems they were to work on, his mouth went dry.

They were much more superior to the ones he had been practicing, full of large numbers and letters Kurt wasn't sure what they all stood for. He watched out of the corner of his eye as David started scribbling on the bleached paper, easily finishing the first question in under a minute.

Well, now was as good as time as any to start making friends, "Hey, David?" he whispered, leaning a bit closer to the boy, who had stopped writing to look and Kurt, surprised that he would be one to talk in class, "Do you think you could come over after and help me with this? I'm just not getting it..."

David bit his lip and looked back to his paper, and back to Kurt again before whispering back, "Blaine promised that he would help me with the math..."

"That's alright," Kurt shrugged, hiding how put out he was by the rejection. He repositioned his pencil and wrote his name, confident that it would be the only thing he got right on the page.

An eraser jabbed into his elbow, and he looked back to his cheerful friend, "Why don't we do a study group? Wes could defiantly use your help with Shakespeare."

"Sure, I'd be happy to help. Where?"

"Do you think...well...you're room the biggest...but Blaine's got food...?"

Kurt chuckled and shook his head at the folly of teenage boys and their stomachs. "We can use my room, bring your own food, and try and recruit Blaine into bring some of his stash," The older Warbler was known for sneaking the illegal substances onto the school grounds; gummies, chips, non-diet soda pop... you name it, he had it.

David grinned gleefully and pulled out his phone, thumbs sliding easily across the keyboard in a quick, neat message to the two boys.

Kurt couldn't help but give himself a mental pat on the back, proud that he had actually suggested his room; his haven. But that's the price you pay for friends.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

When the boys knocked on his heavy mahogany door later that evening, he had everything set up. His desk had been cleared; his bed's had the wooden study planks placed on them, just waiting to hold notebooks.

He patted his white cuffed shirt down, they were allowed to change into what the professors' called 'casual' as long as it kept to the Dalton colors. Smoothing his pants out from the wrinkled state, his heart skipped a beat.

Because there, in the front pocket of his slacks was a visible bulge. About the size of a crumpled paper. The knocking came again and he looked around the room frantically searching for a hiding place. If Blaine found the poem...oh, he didn't even want to think about it.

"One second! One. Second!" The desk? No, what if someone needed an eraser? Dresser? Never. Closet...under the pillow, perhaps.

"Kurt? You okay in there?" The door knob twisted and he frantically dove for the cover of his bed, simultaneously pulling the folded paper out and shoving it into the first thing he saw: a shoe box. Whatever, he could get it later.

Kurt rolled to his knees and stood in a fluid, graceful movement. "Sorry," he said, wafting a hand airily, "lost my... pen."

Blaine accepted the lie, and Kurt felt a pull in his stomach. That was two lies. The only way to make up for lies – in his head, anyways – was to tell two truths. Cancel the lie out, you know?

And, a _pen_? He lost his pen? He couldn't think of anything so he settled for a pen. A friggen writing utensil. Would he ever live that down? "Anyways...come in."

"We brought food," David said, heaving a full to bursting paper bag from his side as proof. "Blaine even said we could have the good stuff. Something about studying with you was worth celebr- ow!"

Blaine glared at his friend and retracted his fist from the air, lowering it to his side and smiling in a shy little way that made Kurt's heart flutter, and crossed the room to the desk, placing his binder haphazardly in the center.

**XxXxXxXxX**

It was late at night, about quarter to nine, when a knock came at to the door. Kurt missed the first one, burrowing his head into the thick quilt and muffling the loud laughter. But, the knocker was persistent, knocking for a second, louder time.

Kurt looked up from his bed, frowning at the door. Who could possibly be there? Wes was the first to stand, also the closest to the door, and he threw it open. Only to be greeted by a perfectly wrapped brown box, in the hands of the third councilor of the Warblers, Aaron.

"Package came for Kurt," he said, greeting the room with a dazzling smile, "thought I would bring it up before someone got into it."

Wes plucked the package and closed the door on the retreating back of the senior. "Same day delivery; must be pretty important."

Kurt stood from the bed, frowning. What could be so important that someone would get up for the early pick-up, at five in the morning? Blaine and David crossed the room, looking curiously over his shoulder as he folded the flaps down to Wes's arms.

In the wrapping, held another box, in which Wes promptly put it to the carpet, grabbed his pen and stabbed it into the tape, breaking the seal for easy opening. In the box (Kurt was almost expecting another box) was individually wrapped packages. Kurt handed one to each of his friends, knowing what to expect.

Wes and David cheered happily as they held the home-made gingerbread men in their hands, each decorated delicately with the Dalton uniform, completed with a bowtie. Kurt glanced at Blaine hesitantly, worried because the boy hadn't moved from his back.

"These are beautiful," he whispered, smiling slightly.

David mumbled agreement, and Wes chipped in, crumbs falling from his lips, "They're friggin' yummy too!" Chuckling, Kurt rolled back onto his heels and stared at the messy '3' that had been drawn on the blue brazier.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, grabbing a folded piece of paper from the box, "There's a letter here..." Smiling, Kurt broke of a leg and waved a hand for Blaine to start reading it.

"_Kurt, mom made these yesterday, and she said that she would send them out this morning. I stopped her though because I had to add something to yours. Hopefully your friends didn't eat_ _it, I seen them down that pizza at that chicks house. Anyways. I just wanted you to know that we really miss you. And not in the usual way. We got a new kicker. He sucks. Just wanted you to know that I'm saving your spot on the football team for when you pull your head out of your shirt and come back. –Finn. P.S. Puck's trying to get Single Ladies back. P.P.S not working._"

Kurt giggled to himself, pressing the hard white icing of the number into the cookie before biting the head off and savoring the explosion of spices over his tongue. He placed his cookie on the edge flap of the box and shuffled through the rest of the box.

A black knitted sweater that he had ordered _forever_ ago; it must have finally come in. Another box of undecorated men and a thick yellow business sized envelope. His name was written in large, loopy writing, so Kurt knew it was from his step-mother, but the back was tapped, so Kurt threw it like a Frisbee to his bed, it landed on the pillow easily, ready for future reading.

Plucking the half-eaten cookie off the cardboard, he went to take a bite, but he also saw the looks on his friends' faces. For once, all the same; surprise.

"What?" he asked, placing the cookie back onto the box and wiping the back of his hand over of his mouth, afraid he got crumbs or something, but it came away clean. His friends didn't make a move, so he asked again, "What? Stop staring at me like that, it's creepin' me out."

Blaine was the first to close his mouth, first to pose the question, always with the cool head and the ability to bounce back in seconds. "You played _football_?"

"Oh, that," Kurt said waving a hand in dismissal, but mentally checking a lie for a truth off in his head, "It was one game... we won it, and I quit."

David finally shook himself back to the present, nibbling a piece of the head, "What's this about the Single Ladies?"

"Nothing, just a little experiment we did. Now, can we get back to studying? Please? This worksheet's due tomorrow!"

"Not until you tell us what kind of experiment involved football players and Single Ladies."

Kurt crossed the room, frowning and wondering how to word it, because he knew Wes' stubborn streak, and he really needed that workbook done, "We just danced it and then won the game," loftily, he rolled onto his bed, thinking it was now two-for-two, and all was good again in the world. Except, maybe Physics, glaring at the paper and picking the pencil up, "Now, can we get back to studying?"

When no reply came, he looked up to see his friends slack jawed, wide eyes expression and groaned. It didn't look like the questions would get done just yet.


	7. A Heartless Winter

**Hey my favoritest people! I love you all so much that I jumped onto the computer this morning so so tired to type this up. And, admittably, it didn't turn out as great as it sounded in my head, but its never happened before, so I'm not banking it on happening any time soon. Please enjoy, then review, and feel free to suggest something you want to happen, because I'm thinking I need a filler. Thanks. :D**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Six: A Heartless Winter**

**Disclaimer: Opened my advent calendar, but only chocolate, no glee. So no owning anything for me ****ལྒ****And I don't own Mindy Smith(It's Amazing). Damn it all to. **

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

Sitting in the middle of his queen sized bed, legs crossed and over sized pajamas hanging loosely off his shoulders, Kurt Hummel started at the thick mound of paper with a slight smile on his face.

Living in a resistance-like dormitory meant that his ear buds got the full work out. They were on almost twenty-four seven. Only almost because he didn't listen to his music when his friends came for the so called 'study night' in his room.

He was quite lucky, because over the two days that had progressed after that first study group, his friends had returned carrying their books and food. It made for a very jolly night, food, studies, laughs, and most importantly, friends.

Learning to sit quietly in the choir room had been quite the task, but it had been relatively easy, he just did what all the others did. Divide yourself in half, a straighter, stricter manner for the hour between classes and dinner, for Glee. And turn back into the fabulous, louder, smiling self.

The Warblers were quite different than New Directions. While his old club liked to leave things to last minute and work on independent songs, focus on the drama; his new club was quite the opposite. But, he could still sing in the bedrooms adjoined bathroom, he had been told that the boys had sung to often, so the school made to sound proofs the bathroom. Kurt believed them.

He sat there, in the dead center of his tidy bed, room clean and garbage from the study night taken out by David, so the room was spic and span like Kurt enjoyed it to be. There was nothing worse than a dirty room. His was a bit over compulsive about it.

The thick, glossy, 4 by 6 papers in his hand where bright and shining. Carol had sent fourteen of the best ones she had taken. Seven of each team; Warblers and New Directions.

New Directions, a fantastic photograph of Mike flipping over the head of the blonde cheerleader, Kurt didn't even want to think about how extraordinary his mothers timing had to have been. Sam and Quinn doing their solo; standing on stage with the trophy (a before and an after); and one he could only assume they had sung back at McKinley, Tina and Mercedes shining brightly in the center. Kurt was glad that his best friend had finally got her chance at the spot light.

The Warblers photos were quite similar, but mostly group shots. Kurt flipped through these seven a first time, quickly scanning the whole assembly, but going back and focusing on individuals. Himself, perfect as always; David; Wes; and finally Blaine.

There were two photos that caught his eye in particular, one of the four of them, arms folded around each other, with David and Wes bordering the other two. Kurt didn't recall posing for this, but from his wide smile and twinkling eyes, it would have been after the performance, after even, winning. It wasn't the fake smile that he had worn the concert, no his smile reached his eyes, the emotion true. Kurt laid this one to the side, in the pile that was to be posted to his bristle board.

The second was of a single person, not even of him. But it was by far his favorite, out of all fourteen. If you hadn't guessed, it was of Blaine. Head thrown back ever so slightly and the largest smile he could muster _while_ singing. Caramel eyes twinkling with great happiness, gaze directed right at the camera, hands raised to the roof, fingers spread exotically.

Kurt fondly stroked the corner of the substantially perfect paper. He didn't know why Carol had sent this one, when all the others had at least two people in it, but this was defiantly the one that made him smile the most.

Thinking about Blaine, smiling and so happy made his smile falter a bit. Not because he didn't like to see the shorter boy beam, but because he didn't think it would be appropriate for him to tack this particular photograph to the bulletin board.

Because it wouldn't be a friendly nature, not from the way he was looking at it. It made his heart flutter like none of the others did. Made his eyes twinkle and his hands shake ever so slightly. Kurt placed it in his lap and frowned, wondering what he would do with it, because he sure as hell wasn't going to through it out.

Gaze flittering from the bulletin board to his desk, it fell on the open Physics note book. And suddenly, the perfect spot came to him. Placing the picture carefully to the side, he bounced off the soft mattress, crouched on the ground and pulled out the shoe box he had found on Monday night.

It was curious, because the box had been empty when he threw the poem in, but Kurt wasn't one to hold onto empty shoe boxes, of all things. He cradled the cardboard close to his chest and crawled back onto the bed, folding himself in the slight indent he had left.

Flicking the lid off, he gazed in at the folded lined paper, a smile sliding back onto his face as he put the rhyme beside the photograph of the red material. Flipping the box onto its side, he gazed at the picture, a hearty laugh escaping his lips.

Because there on the side, was a tiny sketch of purple and pink shoes; the shoes that Addison had left behind so many weeks ago. He had given them to Blaine, embarrassed, and asked him to return the shoes. Kurt wasn't sure what possessed him into kicking the box under the bed, probably just cleaning the room before his father came to check on him.

The box that had started it all; started his first lunch date with his friend; started the awkward introduce into friendship. Addie had sure played that well, although, admittedly, she probably didn't know he would keep the box for stalker like memoires of her brother.

Kurt dropped the picture in, careful that it wouldn't get bent, laying it flat on the bottom before tossing the folded document beside it. But, this only created a bigger problem, because now what would he do with the box?

Where would he put the shoe box that would be a bit inconspicuous? Well, a shoe box, implies shoes... so, in the closet perhaps?

The answer was so obvious, he laughed out loud. No one would look twice at a shoe box in the back corner of a closet. Crossing the room, he kneeled against the eggshell white carpet and shuffled the many Dalton jackets to the side, shoving his head into the closet and placing the box daintily in the back corner.

He punctured the rest of the photographs to the wall with colorful tacks and bright staples. Finishing, he lifted the blanket and crawled under the thick quilt and pulling the fuzzy pink blanket around his shoulders.

Scrolling through his contact list, he thumbed over 'home' before smiling and pressing a finger pad to the option. It rang twice before being hastily picked up.

"_Hello?_" his brother answered, sounding quite out of breath, probably having run up the stairs to get the phone.

Kurt smiled softly and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, "Hey Finn, how are you?"

"_Kurt? Hey! I knew I recognized the number! I'm good, Sam's over, so were playing Black Opts. It's the shit."_

"_Hey Kurt!"_

"Hello, Sam," Kurt called back, assuming he was on speaker because that's what his family usually did, so they could all talk to him, "Is dad or Carol in?"

"_Shit! No, they went out for a date. Damn it!"_

Smiling ever so softly, Kurt stared out the window at the cold night air, heart high in his chest and spirits up. He could only hope that the swearing was directed to the game and not him, "Oh, okay. Well can you tell Carol that we finished the last of the cookies off, and they were delicious! And tell her I finally got around to..." Kurt paused, eyes on the closet, a single picture flashing through his mind, "the other stuff, and I really like the photos."

"_Sure thing Kurt, I'll tell her when she gets back."_

"Thanks_, bro_." Sam chuckled as the foreign language left the smaller boys mouth, but gasped in pain and Finn took a hit at him, "I'll see you on Friday night?"

"_Totally, dud- Kurt."_

"_Bye!" _

"Bye." Kurt thumbed the 'end call' and reached over to attach the plug in, before reaching up and pulling the switch to the lamp. He stared out of the goose down pillow for a few minutes, at the twinkling lights of the stars and the softly falling snow, before grinning contently and falling into a restful sleep.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Wes and David tip toed down the creaking stair case, frantic to get to the kitchen. The limited three helpings for dinner was completely ridiculous, you see. They were almost always starving when they called it a night.

Well, that's not true. Lately they had been full, but that was only because Blaine would bring his stash to the Study sessions that had become a daily event. He was to busy working on his homework; it was very important to his parents that he excelled in his studies. If you asked Wes, they were kind of stuck up, rich snobs and it was a good thing there children didn't get that gene, though it was too early to tell with Blaine.

Anyways, he was to busy studying, or watching Kurt study to notice the sugar filled candy disappear. The obvious crush their best friend had somehow become acquainted with was upsetting. Not because the boys didn't like Kurt. No, the soprano was a breath of fresh air from the unusually stiff kids of Dalton.

They were wary because the last crush Blaine had turned very, _very _bad. Unmentionably bad. It had been banned from being declared. Penalty: death.

David held up a hand at the stone corner mentioning for Wes to slow, hearing the feint footsteps creep through the stone floors. Leading precociously close to the ground, they peeked around the corner. Surprised that it wasn't Professor McPhine, who had mad it his goal in life to catch the rule-breakers.

No, it was a much smaller, much skinnier boy. Perfect hair clamped down in a burnt yellow toque and thin frame wrapped in a thick knitted sweater. Wes had his suspicions about who it was, but David knew. The confident steps, the straight shoulders and excellent fashion sense... it could only be one boy.

They crept stealthily and quickly through the room to the boy, grabbing him by the elbows and pulling him away from the door, "Hey, Kurt. Whatcha doing?"

The pale boy in question shifted his eyes from the accusing gazed to the ground, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his nose with a single finger.

Wes wrapped an arm around the shoulders and pressed him against his chest, "Trying to sneak out? You don't have to lie to us. Going to meet up with a friend? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Then it'll be the weekend."

"As if it was any of your business, which it's _not_," Kurt slid elegantly from the hold and went to stand against the door, eyes flashing with something David identified as a lie, "but I'm going for a walk. I'm tired of these stuffy walls."

David sighed and slid his foot to block the front door from being opened any more. Kurt glared at him from the under the rim of his toque, eyes flashing once again, "As fun as this is, I'm going to go before it's too late to get my beauty sleep."

"You're beautiful just the way you are," Wes complained, running the back of his fingers over the quickly heating cheek. Kurt slapped the hand away and stepped through the tiny crack in the door and into the night.

Through the windows, the boys watched as he headed towards the tennis courts, complete opposite direction of the parking lot. "I think we've got a bout five minutes to get to the lot, if I remember the math correctly."

"I do believe your correct, my friend. Shall we go wake the beast?"

"We shall."

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Twenty minute later David took a left turn, slowing down as the Navigator, a scarce fifty feet ahead of them, rolled to a stop. After some prompting from his friend, he pulled to an off-road road, flicking his lights off, and basking them in the darkness.

"Why are we here again?" their 'hostage' asked from the back seat, eyes half-closed in the early morning (or late night) hours and hair sticking ruefully to the left side of his head. Blaine was the farthest thing from a night owl and the midnight hour did nothing for his appearance.

Wes reached into the front consul, digging through the dark for a set of binoculars. He pulled them out by a thick leather strap and hung them from his neck. "Our lady faced friend is sneaking around behind our back, and we're going to find out, once and for all."

"You pulled me out of bed at this ridiculous hour to spy on some chick? And, you guys are worse than Kurt at spying," Blaine drew his feet up to the bucket seat and leaned against the cold glass of the van, yawning widely. His words were slurred, he hadn't caught onto the fact that their 'lady-faced' friend was one Kurt Hummel, and his eyes slowly drifted shut and Wes handed his driver a cold coffee, rolling his eyes.

A few minutes later, they debated wither Kurt was just practicing his singing, or if he was actually waiting for someone. David had his hand on the ignitions key, ready for the vehicle to roar back to life as a set of bright yellow lights shone through his back window, lighting the small forest road.

The binoculars were immediately brought to the dark eyes, and David leaned precociously close to the horn, baggy pajama shirt tangling up in the wheel. "Who is it? Can you see what's happening?"

"I can't- it's to dark, and the trees," Wes mumbled, leaning towards the center in attempt to see in the moonlight, "Oh, wait, they're getting out... I can't make out who it is. A girl, I think. Short with long hair. Petite, I'd say good looking, but I can't really see... just a feeling I get."

Blaine, finally giving up on trying to sleep through the noise, sat properly and glared at the front, releasing an exasperated sigh, "Just a feeling?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Why not?"

"'Cause only straight guys can tell if a chicks good looking in the dark of night and through a forest of trees."

"That's, not true, Wes. I'm sure Blaine is thinking how good looking a certain brunette is."

Blaine smacked his friend on the head, realizing who they were 'spying' on, and cheeks burning with embarrassment, "We're just friends."

Lights shone through the vehicle again, basking them in an eerie yellow light. David craned his neck to see which vehicle it was, but the trees blocked it from their dead-end road.

They waited patiently for the other vehicle to pace by, but it never did. Blaine became very worried indeed. Not that he would voice his concerns, but meeting with a stranger in the middle of the night, that would never be that safe.

"Can you see him?" David whispered, mind flashing back to the many horror shows he had seen. Late night, forest of trees, and he had never even heard of this road before. Not that he would ever admit it to his friends, but he was worried for their little warbler.

Wes on the other hand, was having none of the worrisome thoughts. "No, I don't. But I can't really see much of anything..."

The back door slid open and the cold air wafted into the vehicle, sending shivers up the driver's spine. "Blaine? What are you-?" but he was cut off as the door slammed shut. They peered through the windows, over their shoulders, as Blaine scurried through the snow, hands tucked under his arms and snow sticking to his flannel bottoms.

"You're going to make me go after him with you, aren't you?" Wes sighed, and shook his head, "Let's get this over and done with then."

David put a hand on his friends shoulder holding him back, "Uh, he's giving away our hiding spot, so I'm pretty confident that I can drive over there."

Grinning brightly, they pulled out of the run down road, and backing into the so called 'main' path. Pulling up beside the slick black Navigator, the lights lit up a clearing, revealing a startle Kurt, and a stumbling Blaine.

"What in blood hell are you doing?" Wes called, seeing Kurt kneeling in the snow, frantically pushing layers of the white fluff to the side.

A shake of the head was all they got, and Blaine started to move towards his friend, wide awake, now. David followed as well, leading Wes and paving a path to the two. He was honestly playing with the idea of Aliens when Blaine knelt in the snow as well, helping to shovel it aside.

Sharing a long, sigh, Wes and David plopped down beside their friends and brushed it away. "You know, it might be helpful to know what were looking for," because it was quite obvious that they were something rather important.

"In New Directions I sang a duet," Kurt whispered, rocking back onto his toes and looking up to the stars, "Le Jazz Hot. I sang it by myself."

"Wait. You sang a duet with your self?"

Kurt continued like his dark skinned friend had never spoken, "Because Finn said that I was chasing after Sam, and it would encourage the football guys to torment him. I wish I'm glad I didn't sing it with him. It was a lot of fun."

Wes looked to David for an explanation, but he could only shrug, not understanding what the soprano was talking about. They turned to Blaine, who was watching Kurt's every movement with drained expression.

Because he knew all to well what Kurt was trying to say. He knew that Kurt felt like he was being suffocated in the Warblers, not being able to sing like the New Directions. The way he wanted to, with loud back ground sounds and flashy dance moves. The truth was unbearable.

"A ring," Kurt said, placing covered his hands back into the snow.

Sighing Wes looked up from the crude drawing he had fingered into the snow, "What?"

"You wanted to know what I'm looking for. I'm looking for a ring."

"Oh my god, he's gone completely insane," Wes objected, struggling to his feet and brushing the snow from his knees. "I'm not sitting in the snow, looking for a ring. How did you manage to loose it anyways?"

David stood as well, sharing a knowing glance at Blaine before leading his grouchy friend back to the van, "Can you believe that? Looking in waist deep snow for a teeny tiny ring, isn't Blaine coming?"

"Something tells me he's going to be late tonight."

"A Ring!"

Blaine watched his friends trudge away, a smile pulling at his lips. Looking at his despaired friend, a sad frown over taking his pristine face as his friends walked away, he slowly opened him mouth and sang the first thin that came to mind.

**Baby doll, my baby doll  
You're just fine the way you are  
So what's the matter?  
Where's the problem?  
They don't love you  
'Cause they don't know you  
Like I do**

Kurt froze, but didn't look up from his cleared spot in the snow, green grass peeking through to the moonlight. Dropping his gaze, Blaine continued to search through the snow, though he was only humoring the small boy.

**Can you see  
It's amazing what you do to me  
Took my heart and made me feel things  
I never felt before  
It's changing me  
Which direction so certainlyShook me up and threw me around  
Helped me learn to breathe  
It all in**

To his immense, relief, Kurt jumped ahead a few lyrics, his voice high and clear in the middle of a countryside, in the middle of the night. His voice was tired and sad, and stripped of any other emotion, but it sounded so perfect to Blaine's ears, he listened, intrigued as his partner sang out, so different than the voice he used in Warblers practice.

_When I was afraid to reach out  
Oh, when I was the one to run  
You came along with a new lease on love  
To show me how it's done  
_

_**Can you see  
It's amazing what you do to me  
Took my heart and made me feel things  
I never felt before  
It's changing me  
Which direction so certainly  
Shook me up and threw me around  
Helped me learn to breathe  
It all in**_

Voiced joined the other wise empty clearing, blending together in passion and friendship. The last note slowly died down, and Kurt let out a shaking breath before going to look through the snow again.

Blaine searched – or pretended to- until his finger grew stiff and blue, and when he finally couldn't take the ice that pierced at his knees, he rocked back onto the flat of his feet, eyes lingering on the curved back of the boy next to him.

"Kurt?" he whispered, calling attention to the distracted boy, "Who's ring is it?"

"...your sisters. It's Addie's ring. She threw it," his voice broke and Blaine nodded with understanding. His sister, however childish and immature she was never took relationships lightly. The last one, the freshest wound, would have been to Daniel Clark. Two years earlier they had started going out. In the last week they had done more fighting than talking, they all new – save for Kurt – that it was just a matter of time.

Blaine was a little disappointed in his friends for not recognizing his sister. A girl they hung out with much too regularly. And almost laughed aloud when he recalled Wes's description of this 'stranger'. Then again, his fascination with the girl was almost creepy. And he would most certainly enjoy the fact that she was now single. Kurt fell onto his bottom, waking Blaine from his thoughts, and staring up at his friend with a renewed sense of passion and aggression. "They broke up, and she asked me to meet her because she didn't think she could do it herself."

"Well," he reasoned, pulling Kurt to his feet, "I think if she threw it, then she doesn't want it back."

The (ugliest) yellow toque flopped over his smooth shin, tinted pink with the chilly bite of the night. "No, she wasn't crying. That means it's not really over. Quinn, she cried when Finn found out that Beth was Pucks. And Tina cried when Artie started dating Britt. And Mr. Schuester cried when Mrs. P married Couch Tanaka, and then when she married Carl. I cried when Finn called me a fa-"

Through all of this, Blaine listened, thoroughly confused who all these people were, and how any of it made sense. Although he was fairly sure Mr. Schuester was the teacher of New Direction, and he knew for sure that the heartbreaker's name who popped up not once, but twice, was Kurt's taller brother. And somehow people cried when they weren't ready to let go, but had to, or realized they had to, or something along those lines. Blaine was sure it all made sense to the soprano, but it certainly didn't make sense to him.

As Kurt's voice crackled on the last note, Blaine sighed sympathetically and pulled the smaller boy closer to him. They stood like that, embracing, in the snow swirling around their warm bodies in the middle of the clearing. Lit by only the full moon and a thousand and one twinkling stars.

"Addie didn't cry, I don't think they actually broke up." Kurt whispered against his shoulder, the closeness of his breath raising the tiny hairs on his neck. Kurt didn't want him new friend, the one that had made everything with Blaine come true, the one whose shoe box was in the back of his closet, to be unhappy.

Blaine rubbed his friends back and slowly pulled away, before he did something stupid like lean forward and put those bothered lips to silence. "Addie, she will cry. When she's home, in bed were no one can see her. They aren't together. Hot and Cold doesn't work for her." It didn't really work for him either.

"You think so?" Kurt whispered, stepping back as if to distance him self from embracement of almost crying.

"I know so," Kurt nodded and used his foot to fill the slight hole he had pushed clear of the snow. Blaine followed him, shoulders touching and hands brushing, though he didn't pull away because he was sure Kurt couldn't feel it though his yellow mittens.

They parted ways at the nose of the Navigator, and Blaine folded his hands under his arms, trying to heat them up. Kurt flicked a few buttons and backed up.

Heat jumped from the leather seats to lit Blaine with courage. Looking determinedly out the front window, watching the clearing slowly pull away and the highway grow closer, "Nobody is worth your tears. And the one who is won't make you cry."

It was meant to be encouraging, to help the small boy through whatever was going on in that beautiful head of him, but all Blaine wanted to do was cross the seats and shake the boy silly, his mind yelling _'And I right here!'_


	8. Always There

**So for the latness, I had kind of a hectic weekend and didn't even get onto the computer until now, so so sorry. And this chapter is a lot shorter than usual.**

**I am very very happy today because I figured out the four, count it 4!, little chapters. YAY for me. Now all I have to do is write it. To reward my self with this Excellency I am re watching NBK and on ward, even though special Ed is painful and then continuing on to read the holiday spoilers. PS. I might fall behind. **

**A huge Generous thanks to Izzy (MyIzzyBambi27) because you reviewed and suggested to phenomenal ideas! And thanks to everyone else who reviewed/followed/favorited. You're my favorites! **

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Seven: Always There**

**Disclaimer: Oh, most defiantly. The amazingness that is Ryan Murphy is me! Surprise! Hes a teenage girl who has nothing better to do on her day off to sit in a super uncomfortable chair. Yeah, its me. (did you catch my sarcasm?)**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

The slick black Navigator pulled slowly into the overly crowded parking lot. Vehicles of every shape, form, and color passing by. A few stood out, a cherry red convertible, a purple, so dark it was almost black, punch bug, and a beat up pickup truck. He smiled fondly as each of them and drew into the only open spot, at the very corner of the lot.

The atmosphere was quiet and calm, surprisingly warm for such a December day. The snow melted into thick tear drops, falling to the ground, and the tips of dead and dying grass could be seen against the white.

The Timberland rolled top of his hiking boots left rivets in the slush as he headed towards the brick building. It seemed so much like spring that it was almost disheartening that Christmas was a scarce two and a half weeks away. Wait – Christmas? Disheartening? Scratch that.

Dashing across the parking lot, and up the front stairs, he ducked into the hallway. Surprisingly enough, it looked identical and alike to the McKinley high in his head; the McKinley high in his memory. The yellow chipping lockers, the dirty (even worse know, because of the snow) floors and the garbage that was littered down the hall. There was only one difference.

Kurt Hummel wouldn't be returning on Monday.

And the very thought that Dalton Academy for Boys, the Warblers and his dormitory waiting for his return, made him smile. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, his little surprise visit to his favorite competition. His favorite family that wasn't actually family. At Dalton, they got let out a whole two classes earlier than McKinley, giving Kurt enough time to drive to Lima and be there just as the last period started.

He knew the McKinley schedule of by heart. You had to if you wanted to avoid the jocks. For that exact reason, he knew that class had started seven minutes ago. Enough time for the football players (namely Karofsky) to clear the hallways, take the extra minutes to get to class and it gave Kurt a moment to fix his appearance. Not that there was much to fix.

His boots clunked through the empty halls, slightly oversized and loose. But, no one would notice that, and it was totally in. Military style and what not. It went wonderfully with his slightly faded skinny jeans and the burgundy and blue argyle sweater. Somehow he couldn't get away from the Dalton colors.

Try as he might, the colors followed him everywhere. He was just so tired of the colors and the uniform and everything about Dalton clone that he wished it was warm enough to shed the sweater and reveal his bright blue tee shirt.

Squeaking to a stop outside the choir door, Kurt leaning against the frame and watched as his friends burst out laughing, evidently after a wonderfully fun performance that had been sadly lacking from his life. Sure, Warblers performed goofy songs once and a while, Teenage Dream, for example. But Kurt hadn't had the privilege of one just yet, and he missed the random spots for breaking into song and dance.

A few minutes earlier, he could have easily joined in. But _no_ that would mean a possible run in with Dave and The Fury. And that just ain't gonna go down pretty. Damn him for ruining his life, for threaten it. The transfer was on his shoulder, and Kurt was sure that he wouldn't take nicely to being almost expelled.

"Okay, guys, that was great but-"

"Spy!"

"Kurt?"

"Kurt!"

"Oh my god, you're alive!"

"I thought you were going to Jupiter."

"Dude! Good to see you!"

"Been too long."

"Man, long time, no see."

Kurt returned hugs and even shared a fist pound with a couple of the dudes. "Yeah, well, you guys sucked so much, I was too embarrassed to return," he winked at Mercedes, who was clamping safely to his hand. It felt much like it was to keep him from disappearing once again.

"We tied though, so you must have equally sucked!"

"That's right chicka! We're going to Regional's!" Kurt joined in the loud cheer that erupted from the Christmas clothed teenagers. They were going to Regional's, because they had tied at Sectionals, and it took far to long for that thought to settle in his stomach.

It wouldn't have been easier, by far, if they had lost Sectionals. An easier break; especially after the dancing duet by Brittany and Mike. David had admitted that he thought they had been beat. But it was a good thing, too, because it was the first competition that they had ever won, and Kurt was happy for them. But going up against his friends for something much more serious, like Nationals, made his hands shake and go clammy.

However, that was _not_ why he was there. He was at McKinley High, his old school, to abduct all eleven of his class mates- no, friends. Take them out for dinner and a hell of a fun time, because he hadn't seen them since he transferred, his weekends full with Sectionals and test and visiting his parents. This was their weekend. His weekend for a break from the insanity that came with have the Three Musketeers' for new friends.

"Kurt?"

"What? Sorry, thinking."

"Are we going to go? Or did you want to stand in here all night?" His friends had escorted him to the hall and was slowly moving as a mass through the hallways, having been dismissed early by everyone's favorite teacher.

"Yes! We're going, 'Cedes. Lets get this party _st-arted_!"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

"Mom! Dad!" Kurt hollered, leaving the cold dark night and walking into the large living room area, "Were _ho-me_!" It felt so good to say that, after so long away from home. To call out 'mom' and have someone to race down the stairs, eyes wide and hair wild and pull you into the tightest, most loving hug known to man.

Resting his cheek lightly against the pink powder flowered shirt, he returned the hug, closing his eyes and memorizing the scent. Something light and wonderful, it was soothing and mothering and all good things in the world. He never wanted to leave the tight embrace, he felt safe and secure, but the garage door shot open and his father limped through the living room. Carol hesitantly let go, patting his pale cheek twice before letting his father over take him in a giant bear hug.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered, the words shifting his hair ever so slightly. His embrace, while Carol's was soft, was equally as sturdy. Like he could banish all the evil in the world. And Kurt believed he could. He had gotten rid of the Dave situation; he had gotten him the Defying Gravity chance. He had given up his honey moon so his son could be safe. He meant the world to Kurt, and he would never let go of the big bear that his father was.

"Hey Dad," he breathed, resting his head under the crook of the chin, resting his ear against the hard collarbone, just like he had when he was five and they sat in the red lazyboy every morning, "I missed you."

"I missed you to."

They stood like that for a good while, until the phone broke through the silence and Finn galloped through the room to the green phone, he answered it cheerfully and Burt let go of his son, moving over to lightly peck his wife on the cheek.

"How's the school treating you? Any problem children we should know about? Because I can still torch the place...it'll just take a lot longer to burn."

Kurt laughed and plopped onto the old sofa, curling his stocking feet under himself and clutching a familiar pillow to his chest, "No, dad, no problem kids," _although the three boys who are slowly turning into my best friends are in detention at least twice a week_, Kurt, however, choice to with hold that information, "And the schools great! I'm learning so much from them, and all the professors' are really nice."

"Any cute boys?" Carol asked, folding herself into the chair across from him, blue-green eyes twinkling in a very I'm-your-(step)mother-I-know-all way that made Kurt blush and look to the carefully stitched pillow.

Pushing all thoughts of a curly haired boy from his mind, because, as it turns out, his step-mother might just be a mind reader, "Uh...you know...know more than the usual..."

"Oh, really? Because that Blake boy who sang that beautiful song at the performance seemed to be looking your way quite often..." Yup, Carol Hudson-Hummel, mind reader.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders and pinched his lips together; avoiding the curious and cautious glare from his father, "Blaine, and nope. Just friends."

"But he plays for the team, doesn't he?" Finn asked, re joining them and hopping over the back of the couch, practically landing on his younger, smaller brother, "Right? Mercedes said he's gay... right?"

"Just because he's gay doesn't mean that we have romantic notions, _Finn_," _shut the frick up before I beat you to a bloody pulp._

"I want to meet this kid. This Blaine. Talk to him about treating my son with respect, for sure if there's romance involved."

Groaning, Kurt threw back his head and rested the soft, soft pads over his eyes, "No, dad. You don't get to meet him because you're going to go all papa bear on him and scare away the one guy that gets it, gets me."

"We can talk about it in the morning."

Sighing, Kurt translated this as, 'when you're still half asleep in the morning, I'm going to sneak into your room, steal your phone and threaten this kid's life if he does anything to hurt you.'

"Sure, dad," he agreed, rolling his eyes and standing off the couch, Finn following suit, "but I'm calling it a night. Too much excitement for a Friday." It had to be reaching midnight, and lately, he hadn't been getting enough sleep. Not because of anything other than homework...and maybe a certain young Warbler that had been within reaching distance more and more often.

"Night kiddos."

"Good night, my boys."

Placing the pillow perfectly against the arm, Kurt took his leave and walked into the white room. He was fully prepared to spend until two in the morning cleaning his room, but he gasped as he walked down the stairs, eyes popping out of his eyes.

Finn stood, grinning ear to ear at the bottom of the stairs. He had; evidently, re organized the room, pushing his own bed closer to the stairs, and Kurt's bed under the window, a couch between them and a large, new television against the far wall.

"I hope you like it. You're dad said you like to sleep under the window at night, so you can see the stars..." Finn had groan uneasy in the silence that followed Kurt's inspection of the room. He knew that, compared to his little brother, he had zero organizing skills and even less interior designing experience. His mother had helped.

Kurt smile brightened the room and he danced into his brothers' tall frame, hugging his around the upper chest before bouncing away and inspecting the words that had been written on the wall in large loopy writing, just above his bed and bellow the window.

_We love you, Kurty!_ He traced the thick marker with a finger, grinning when he recognized his best-friends lettering. Below that was her name, sighed with a drawing of a heart and the signatures of twelve of his class mates. _Mercedes, Tina and Mike, Quinn, Sam, Rachel, Will (Mr. Schuester), Puckeronous, Santana and Brittany, Artie, and Finn. (The best big brother in the whole world...)_

"I got your back, _bra_?" Kurt laughed, tracing over the last words with his finger, he turned to his brother, who was grinning on the other side of the room and shrugged helplessly, "Thank you Finn, it means a lot to me that you got everyone to come sign my wall."

Finn pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a horribly wrapped square box. He walked (ever so slowly) to Kurt's bed and sat down on the foot, pushing the yellow, green and orange wrapping towards him with the trademarked goofy Finn smile.

Kurt spun from his position on his knees and inspecting the wall above his bed, and sat in the center of the bed, pulling the present greedily towards him. He un-folded the paper ever so lightly, careful not to rip it and placed it gently beside him.

His friends didn't need to do this, get him a present. He had gotten their letters and cards in the mail, the pictures and the various knick knacks they sent. He had quite the collection of toys on his window frame at Dalton.

A cardboard box was revealed, and he peeled it open, revealing a white frame, doodles of various thicknesses over the paint. Gingerly, he pulled it from the box, resting it on the box and stroking a finger over the drawing. He knew, in his heart that Tina, Brittany and Santana had covered the white paint. Much like they used to on his Spanish papers.

In the center of the frame, pressed tightly to the glass was a mirror image of the wall. But rather than it being a photograph, it was a painting. He could see the thickness of the paint from Mercedes' writing and signature, and the thinness of Rachel's music note, the different characteristics and lettering that made his twelve friends all unique. While the permanent marker on his white wall was wonderful and beautiful and heartfelt, the framed picture held something more to be desired.

Thick water splashed onto the glass, and Kurt bit his lips to keep the flood in. He missed his friends. He missed the opportunity to dress in anything he wanted, from bright yellow boots to green sweet bands. He missed the pure easiness of the classes, the way all the teachers loved him, but would never say anything when paper airplanes hit him in the head.

He missed the Glee practices, where no one would judge you for breaking out in random songs. He missed seeing his friends, mingled with his enemies, in the halls, and chatting with Mercedes between classes. He missed learning strange dance moves from Mike Chang. And the laugh Brittany gave him every time he shot down others outfits.

He missed Santana's bitchiness, and Rachel's annoying diva storms out. He missed Arties optimistic view on all things bad in life. He missed Mr. Schuster's bias way of teaching and Mrs. Sylvester's crazy schemes to rid McKinley of New Directions. He missed Tina's goth-like dress and Quinn's hugs on a rough day. The way Puck pushed people away in the hall, and Sam diving to take a hit for him. He missed seeing his big brother in every other class, and the way he was oh-so annoying at home.

Salty tears ran smoothly down his cheeks, splashing violently on his new present, washing his view and blurring the signatures of love. Finn plucked the frame off his lap, and scotched over on the mattress, tangling the blanket up and making a disaster of a mess.

His strong, callused hands wiped away the tears, scratching angrily across Kurt's skin, but he didn't care. He pulled his little brother into a tight, almost awkward, hug, cradling the soft hair to his neck and rocking gently back and forth. If there was anything he hated more than math, it was Kurt crying.

All his life, since junior year anyways, Finn had always wondered how Kurt could stay so strong. From shaking off the dumpster tosses to leaving the bathroom with his head held high and blue slushy left in the sink, Kurt never broke. But here he was, crying over a stupid present. For reasons Finn didn't know. But what he did know was his little brother needed him, and he would always, _always_ be there for him.

He also knew that he was going to kill Dave Karofsky for starting this. Sure, he had gotten a few punches in after Kurt had told him that he had been attacked by that gorilla, but this was different. This wasn't a boy mourning the loss of his first kiss, this was a broken brother, crying into his arms because his life had done a complete 180.

Oh, was Karofsky going to pay.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"Kurt! Hurry up!"

"I'm coming! Shesh! Give a guy a second to change!" Kurt tightened the last of the shoelaces, squishing his thin ankles firmer. He hadn't done this in a long time, not since his father had tried to make him join the hockey team. Thank god that fell through.

Pushing off with on foot and dragging the other, he pin wheeled his arms, conscious of his friends' laughter, but rather not falling on his tight, jean clad butt. That would be even more humiliating. The rink held only the twelve of them, the rest of Lima still inside, hiding from the chilly air.

His white and light blue hockey skates swished under his feet, shaving a thin layer of ice away from the otherwise frozen water. He lifted a heavy foot to avoid a rather thick crack and placed it quickly back down before making a klutz out of himself.

The cold air whooshed around his cheeks and into his ears, making him shiver. The cold air nipped at his nose, turning it a bright pink, but thankfully he had planned for the wintry atmosphere and dressed appropriately. Sure, he might look like fat snowman, in his three layers of sweaters and coats, and two layers of mittens. But he was a warm snowman, and a fashionable one at that.

Kurt felt like he finally got the rhythm when Quinn shot past him, Sam pumping quickly after her. They were so cute, so stereotypical, that it literally made him sick. He wanted to be that cute. Tina and Mike skated by, snickering as Kurt almost lost his balance, again, hand in hand and grinning despite the cold.

Making his way to the center of the frozen pond, he slid to a slow stop. Legs spread wide and back bent in a way that was not healthy for longer periods of time. He grabbed the handles to Arties chair before he fell on his butt, keeping balance and grinning at his paraplegic friend.

"How you doing?" Artie asked, twisting ever so slightly to look behind him at his red faced friend.

Kurt breathed out, exhausted, watching the fog that his breath created slowly fade away. "Want to know a secret?" Artie nodded and prompted him on, "I hate this. I just know I'm going to fall and ruin my new jeans. And I hate the cold because it freezes my eyelashes together and I hate that my hot chocolate's going to be cold by the time I make it back to that stupid bench."

"Here, have some of mine," Kurt clutched at the large Styrofoam cup taking a large gulp around his chattering teeth before handing it back to his geeky friend. He was lucky, he got to sit in a nice and warm blanket and sip hot chocolate and watch as snow balls flew around the ice, because no one would hit a wheel chair bound kid.

"You know, we could trade legs if you want, you can try making your ass into a giant bruise if you'd like."

"Thanks," Artie grinned, resting the cup onto his limp knees, "but I don't fancy doing that."

Kurt followed the finger to see Rachel slid from the upright position onto her back, skates going above her head before crashing down to the white frozen water. "Maybe we should wear helmets..." Puck skidded to a halt, grinning down on the frowning Diva and helping her back onto her feet.

His gaze shifted to his brother, who was skating steady circles with Brittany, looking like he was going to go all hero on his fallen girlfriend, but he chickened out and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as his blonde friend babbled on.

"They _still_ aren't talking?" Kurt mused watching with curious eyes as Rachel looked toward him but back to Puck, like she was deeply and emotionally hurt to see her boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, chatting with the definition of dumb-blonde.

Artie shook his head mournfully, watching Finn steady his own girlfriend (Kurt still had a hard time wrapping his head around that phenomenon) "No, but I wish they would hurry up and get back together, its hurting our vocals. And going against your boyfriend-"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Sure, whatever, if you aren't crushing on him, I'm not a wheel chair bound dude. Plus, he's got serious pipes on him." Artie nodded his head, like that was that. Kurt would never, ever, admit his crush to Artie, because he was currently trying to pretend it didn't exist. For his sake, the sake of the Warblers and his fathers health. "We need them back together if we want to win Regionals."

"Shall we call this operation Finchel then?" Kurt questioned, gently pushing across the ice and taking his friend closer to the warmth of the Navigator.

Artie grinned and sat patiently for the edge of the small pond to slowly crawl towards them. "Operation Finchel: commence."

"You know, Kurt," Sam mused, sliding to a stop beside them, just as Artie's wheels reached the frozen ground, Kurt glanced over his shoulder to see Sam and Finn flanking him with the two most evil grins he had ever seen.

Brittany quickly took over Arties handles, spinning him and pushing him for a loop, Quinn skating easily beside them. "What ever you're planning, it won't work." Even to him his voice sounded worried and thin. Because really, once they got a hold of him, what choice did he have?

"I think it will," Finn countered, approaching forward and grabbing onto his brothers thickly padded arm, Sam took the other, and together they spun him to face the pond again.

"Guys please don't! I'm freezing," although the sun had peeked out of the stormy grey clouds, lighting up the ice and reflecting off the snow, warming Kurt up so much so that he was debating taking a layer off. Or, at least his scarf.

Sam chuckled and tightened his grip on the struggling boy. "But we never get to see you Kurt!" Kurt glared into the sad, puppy dog eyes, biting his lip and shaking his head. But that didn't stop his friends from pumping forward and pulling him as they past Artie, Quinn and Brittany in a few seconds. The pond blurred by and his knees wobbled, but the grip didn't tighten, in fact, it started to get looser.

Kurt realized, a second to late, what they were planning, "Guys! Don't!" the last word was lost as he went flying around the edge of the ice, a pile of snow growing closer and closer, until, finally, the soft snow cushioned his fall.

"I hate you guys," he mumbled as laughing hands pulled him out of the drift, leaving a very Kurt-like imprint. Finn brushed the snow from his hair with a thick clad hand, and Sam brushed the front of his puffy blue winter coat off.

"No you don't. You love us."


	9. Fools and Fouls

**A big, ginormous thanks to **

**Izzy, again I think I will use that song, though I'm bouncing back and forth a bit. **

**Nj(ferrell), lol, I was going to get Blaine in but than I decided that he was in all the other chapters and needed a break because he started demanding time and a half pay, and I just can't swing that ;)**

**LoTus, I really love your comments, not gonna lie they always make me smile like a retard. Haha, thanks my lovely. **

**(and thanks to everyone else that reviewed earlier chapters, and people who followed/favorited.) Mwah. **

**But, before you read, a quick note. I started this chapter Tuesday morning, and finished it after the Christmas Episode. I don't know what it was, but I was in this weird mood after it, when I came up with the second half. I hope I don't loose your love for it, and I promise to make up for it in the next chapter. I really like reviews on what you think of it. As it is as angst as I can get .**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Eight: Fools and Fouls**

**Disclaimer: do I look like I could come up with the phenomenal performance of Baby Its Cold Out? No, no I couldn't. Therefore, I do not own Glee. **

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Glancing from the black inked pages of his thick, leather bound book, and up to the woken coo coo clock, for what had to have been the twelfth time in the last two minutes. He was just barely containing his foot from tapping impatiently Artie was sure cutting it close to the hour marker. A few minutes and the game would start, a few minutes—

Sure enough, as the clocks ugly, lime green bird sprung out, Finn lunged from his spot on the couch for the remote, and quickly flicked the black screen on. Kurt watched, gnawing at his bottom lip eagerly looking to the phone. The credits rolled, much too quickly and flipped to a vehicle commercial.

The seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes. If Artie didn't call before the game so much as announced its teams, there was no hope of getting his older brother off the couch. No way. No How.

He sighed and stared at the phone, willing it with his hind to just ring already! And it did. Just like... magic. Kurt focused back on to the words of the page, staring into the textured white between black lines. Finn jumped from the couch, quickly sprinting across the room the phone.

Even quicker, and with much resemblance to a frog licking up a fly, Kurt scooped up the remote control and pressed the large red triangle, killing the sponsors of the game. He chucked it onto the couch and leaned back to pretend to read his book, just incase Finn looked to his littler brother for help.

"Hey Dude! Yeah, we were both about to watch the game," at this, Kurt rolled his eyes. No, he wouldn't be watching the game. Ever. "Uh, I guess. I can get it taped from...uh...someone. No, I wasn't going to say Rachel. No, I wasn't. Whatever dude, where you wana meet? Never heard of it. Oh, okay. Sure, see you there. Bye now."

Biting fiercely on his lip, Kurt could only hope that his aimless staring at the book would look like reading to Finn. Oh, were they brilliant! So clever to come up with this little scheme. Really, it was all Artie, but Kurt had some parts of it. Like meeting at the Spotted Giraffe and conveniently inviting the two players.

Finn walked over to the closet and pulled on his sneakers, bending down to tie the laces and yelling to his 'bra', "Hey, that was Artie! He wants to meet us for lunch before you leave tonight. Some place called the Spotted Giraffe? Ever heard of it?"

"You don't say...Sure, that sounds like fun!" Kurt placed his book onto the table, careful not to fold the pages, before following the tall young man up the stairs. "I've heard of it yes, I can drive," Finn nodded and tossed the keys across the living room, before trekking into the garage and hopping into the passenger seat.

The drive to the small, secluded café was quiet, but pleasant. The excitement bubbled in his chest and threatened to explode all over the polished interior of Brenda. Yes, Kurt had named his baby Brenda.

The café was empty save for a girl in bubble gum pink hair behind the cash register, looking extremely bored and rolling a wad of gum between her fingers. When the bell clanged above them, she looked from her book and dropped the gum into what Kurt really hoped was garbage and disappeared into the back room, hopefully to go wash her hands.

Finn led the way through the café to the very back, away from any window, which suited the plan perfectly. They plopped into the wire chairs beside each other, elbows brushing with a precise routine. They flipped open the small menu at precisely the same time, grinning. They spent far too long at Bread Sticks perfecting the practice, learning to work around each others elbows.

Kurt glanced through his eyelashes as the bell clanged once again. Smiling when Rachel pushed the wheelchair bound friend through the glass door. Kurt grinned and waved them over, but he could feel his brother tense up beside him. Oh, were they so clever.

"Rachel! It's really good to see you again!" he greeted, standing to give the petite brunette a hug.

She returned the hug pounding his back with her hand and whispering fiercely, "I know what you're planning, Hummel. Good try," and then a louder, "Yes, I can't believe you're leaving again tonight! We never get to see you, you're truly missed."

"Good to know," Kurt said, grinning his best grin and hoping the girl wouldn't be mad at him. That's not what they were going for. Besides, it was just lunch. Artie had taken the hug-time to wheel into the spot across from Kurt, forcing Rachel to cross her legs and pointedly stare away from her parallel partner.

"Hey guys!" the girl with pink hair greeted, pushing some of the bangs away with her free hand and grinning at the table when a round of hello went around. "What can I get for you?"

Kurt waited patiently as his friends rattled off their orders, peering into the slightly blushing face. Something about the blue-green flashing eyes and the way she held herself. As she turned to him, a slight smile working its way onto her cherry red lips, it hit him like a train.

"Oh. My. God! What did you do to your hair?" the chair scratched back across the tile as he stood, raising a hand to lightly stroke a loose, floating pink strand. She laughed lightly, the sound echoing like a bell around the empty room, and tucked the stand into the bob, but ignored the question. "Addie! What did you _do_?"

She laughed again, but this time she reached her hand up and ran it through the silky locks, tangling them in the scalp. But her hands didn't stop in the knot, instead they continued down the back of her head, the bangs slowly sliding up her forehead, revealing the tight blond hair beneath it. "It's just a wig, silly. I would _never_ dye my hair this color."

"Oh, good," the relief washed over him like a cold breeze on a hot day. He loved her hair, secretly jealous of it; it was long and shiny and looked perfect at two o'clock in the morning. But, than again, everyone looks good at two o'clock in the morning. "I didn't know you worked here," he commented softly, blushing a bit. They texted all the time, chatted about hideous clothing in the lunch hour and how dumb boys could be in the late night.

She smiled and pushed the notepad into the café's giraffe black apron, opening her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted as a tall, muscular, dark skinned man stocked behind her, "Not only does she work here, but she co-owns it. And she has a phone call. It's your brother."

"Tell him I'll call him back in a minute," Addie watched him walk away, a slight frown on her face, "That's Paul," she told them, shaking her head, "_we_ co-own the Spotted Giraffe Been together since third grade. He takes some warming up to. Uh, Kurt, what did you want to eat? I should probably call Blaine back..." Kurt pointed mutely to the avocado dip, watching as the small girl nodded and rushed back behind the counter and through a black beaded curtain.

Blaine... the name sent shivers down his spine. His mind almost instantly flashed with still photographs, his surprisingly curly hair early in the morning, the horribly trimmed triangle eyebrows, and the warm liquid rum of his eyes. In the three weeks of Dalton, this weekend had been the longest they had been apart. But it isn't like they were inseparable. Not as if they were joined at the hip.

He had gone to Tennessee to visit his parents. Surprising, right? Here Kurt thought they lived in Columbia or somewhere remotely close. But _no_... they lived in the middle of Tennessee. They had sent their son to a boarding school states away and expected him to fly out to visit them. Kurt didn't really like the sounds of Blaine's parents. Wes had called them rich snobs more than once, and although David would never contribute to the latest parents-are-out-to-get-their-teenaged-sons rant, Kurt got the feeling that Blaine's parents had sent him to Dalton because they had a problem with him being gay. Kurt supposed not all fathers were as awesome as his.

But on the plus side, Blaine was going down this weekend to trade presents, so, not only would he come back with good loot, but he would be in Lima for Christmas, with Addie. And be able to hang out with Kurt all the time. Not like a date, no. Kurt refused to think that the '_we have to go out and look at the Christmas lights, just the two of us,_' was a date. Because Blaine didn't like him like Kurt liked him. Blaine saw him as a little brother. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

"So, Kurt," Rachel said, breaking the awkward silence at the table, Artie looked up from the scratching at the table, "Daltons good? The Warblers?"

"Yes, actually," Kurt flipped rapidly though folders of his mind, looking for something, anything to turn the conversation, "Actually, we've been focusing on Regional's and our up and coming Christmas Concert...How about you guys?"

"We just finished our Christmas caroling..." Finn murmured, accepting his soda from Paul and slurping a good third of it in one gulp.

Rachel withdrew from the conversation and Kurt glared furiously at his own _diet_ bubbling soda. This wasn't going at all to plan. They were supposed to start talking and slowly realize that they were still in love – because they defiantly were. No doubt about it.

"Yeah, yeah, you remember that one class room?" Artie asked, nodding his head briskly and beaming around the table. Kurt could only fathom what had happened in that one class room, "When Mrs. McHealing threw her shoe at the band, and it almost pegged Lauren in the face."

"What did you guys _do?_" Kurt asked, shocked that the usually mellow English teacher would get worked up enough to through her shoe at a band of students.

"We went Caroling," Rachel stated matter of factly and shaking her head mournfully at the thought, "I don't know what Mr. Schuester was thinking."

"I dunno, I thought it was pretty funny," Finn mumbled, bubbles forming in the bottom of his drink as he giggled through the straw. Rachel joined in, shortly followed by Artie and Kurt.

He sobered up pretty quickly, because it wasn't all that hilarious, especially when he hadn't even been there, and shared a pathetic look with Artie. Rachel was clutching at her stomach and trying to cover up her rapidly blushing face and twinkling laugh. Finn, however, bellowed out loud and seemed not to realize that his hand was slowly inching over the table to brush Rachel's fingers.

Artie grinned and wink. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the most thought out plan, and was poorly lacking in some areas, but it seemed to be working for the most part. Rachel didn't even startle when she bent closer to the table, still laughing, and her warm hand traveled atop Finn's large one.

Addie brought a cease to their laughing when she arrived at the table, four plates balanced strategically on her arms. The white ceramic thud in front of each of them and she retreated, an angry scowl across her face. Kurt made a mental note to find out what that was a bout at a later time, but for now the steaming dip in front of him called attention.

They chatted listlessly about school, the holidays, Christmas presents, stories, and even broke into a quick version of Jingle Bells. Kurt finished off his plate pretty quick, munching on the fries that came with Finn's meal and listening as Rachel re-told a story of their dating days. That was a good sign, right? Talking about dating. Kurt defiantly thought so.

Paul showed up at some point to whisk away their empty plates, but Addie showed up quickly after he disappeared, supporting a large chunk of dark chocolate dessert on an elaborate Christmas plate. She placed it in the middle of the table, four forks sprouting from the sides.

Leaning forward, Kurt examined the cake. It was in the shape of a house, white icing dripping from the roof and whip cream trees bordering around the cake. Chocolate piped men stood in a circle around a gum drop bonfire and lyrics to 'A Very Merry Christmas' was scrawled across the roof.

"Eat up," she said; shaking Kurt from his awe and motioning to a fork, "It's on the house. Do you mind if I join you for a minute?" Kurt shook his head quickly, fork waving left and right in his mouth. It was a pretty damn good cake. He watched from the corner of his eye as she pulled a discarded chair and straddled it, watching them fondly dig in. "I was thinking about entering the local gingerbread house contest, but I needed some practice..."

"It's really, really, really good," Finn mumbled, chocolate crumbs falling from his lips and onto the white of his tee shirt.

"Thanks!"

When all of the whip cream disappeared from the plate, scooped up by Finn's greedy fork, Kurt leaned back in his chair, his gut the fullest he had been in a long time. The work out he would have to do after that sugary treat...ah, he didn't even want to think about it.

"Addison! It's two! You're going to be late!" Paul's strong voice boomed from the kitchen, making said girl jump.

She rolled her wrist to check the time on her beaten Timex. Kurt was pleasantly surprised to recognize it from the first coffee shop they had visited. "Jiminy Cricket, so I am. Kurt, I trust I'll be seeing you around. Artie, it was really nice to see you again. Rachel and Finn, you two are the cutest god damned couple I've ever seen."

The four of them stared at the girl who rushed away from the table, pulling off her apron and pushing out the door, before looking back to the table. There the hands sat, in the same position they had been resting earlier. But, as Artie and Kurt shared a sly smile, the hands jumped apart like they were on fire, and the couples cheeks burned a bright red.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"You don't have to, dad, I know how much you guys hate winter driving..."

"Of coarse we're coming Kurt!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, squirt."

"It is your Christmas Concert, after all."

"Well, it's not that big of a deal..."

"Sure it is!"

"It's not like I'm getting a solo."

"We _are_ going sweetie, stop trying to convince us other wise."

"Fine, but you better not embarrass me!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"I'll see you all on Friday afternoon then?"

"For sure, son."

"Look for us in the front row."

"Okay, I love you guys!"

"We love you too, sweetheart."

"Finn, try to keep the room clean, I don't fancy cleaning it on my first day of holidays. And Dad, stay away from the junk food closet."

"What? No advice for your poor old stepmom?"

"Of course, Carol. Try not to kill my brother, I'm sure he means well."

"Even if he almost burns the house down?"

"Even then."

"Hey! That was _one_ time."

"Twice."

"What_ever_."

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

The laughter slowly died down, and the music continued to play on, a corny Christmas show (A Muppets Movie ) muted on the large screen television, tinsel and plastic candy canes hanging down from the sides, presents wrapped in different colors and sizes crammed under the fluffy, dark green branches of the most beautiful tree they had ever seen.

They, being New Directions and a handful of the Warblers. They crowded in the white basement, paired off for Pictionary. Rachel and Finn (obviously together again from the way they couldn't keep their hands off each other) had just commenced their turn, Finn standing by the pasty easel, and drawing either and awkward hand print or a deer. The couples, and in less cases, partners laughed at the pathetic attempt of a Christmas drawing.

Kurt drew his knees to his chest, shivering slightly in the stuffy, hot air. Pointed knees dug into his back, moving up and down in the most erotic massage. It felt _so_ good. He threw his head back and rested them on the knees, smiling into the lust filled chocolate eyes.

Blaine looked so different out of his Dalton's uniform. Clean and prep still, but with just the faintest flare of punk that had to be his sister's influence. Kurt watched, amazed as the strict hair slowly undid in the humidity of multitude of teenagers in the pine scented room, and became a shorter, waver cut.

Raising a hesitant arm, he ran shaking hand through the darkish brown hair, amazed at the softness of it all, and the way it fell back into place perfectly. But that wasn't right... because, having seen the hair product drawer at Dalton, Kurt knew the sheer number of jells that was required to keep the curly hair stiff to the left. But it felt so good. Like the softest, finest silk. Kurt never wanted his fingers to be spared the feeling again.

The now green-brown eyes softened and the pale pink lips turned into a rueful smile that was easily recognizable, but not on Blaine's features. "A dream is something that fills up the emptiness inside. The one thing that, you know if it came true, all of the hurt would go away."

What an odd thing for him to say.

Kurt turned his focus back to the game in hand, watching as Artie stumbled forward, the strange walker attached to his legs and making him sound just like the robot Burt had gotten Kurt a few years ago for his birthday. It currently sat in the closet, collecting dust.

Artie had just started to draw the picture, Kurt knew what it was going to be, an elaborate sleigh, when the doorbell sounded. 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' rang through the basement and the teens turned their noses up, almost expecting to be able to see through the wooden floor to the unexpected visitor.

"Oh! I'll get it!" Kurt announced, bouncing up from his position on the floor and carefully stepping over the mug of hot chocolate that had been at his knees. A chipped nail polished hand held him back though, and he inspected the black paint with a dainty eye before turning back to his companion that had also stood. "Yes?" he questioned, jetting a hip out and raising his eyebrow elegantly.

And just like that, the lips were on him. Chapped and tasting very much like the cherry candy canes that hung from the fresh spruce tree. The hand slid up his arm and fisted in his hair, pulling Kurt onto his tip toes against the very solid chest and mashing their mouths closer together.

Kurt's own hands, taking on a mind of their own, strolled down the muscular back and flexed against the soft, bare skin that peeked between the black shirt and the tight jeans. The hand on the nape of his neck slowly relaxed, releasing him and pushing him ever so gently away.

"I'll miss you."

Kurt chuckled and pressed his lips lightly to the swollen, virgin lips, a silent promise of his return. The boy dropped back into his spot beside David on the couch, crossing a black socked foot over his knee and watching Artie add the world far below the sled to the drawing, like nothing had happened.

The white painted stairs blurred past him as he headed up the stairs, eager to head back down them. He reached the landing and slowly made his way across the dark living room, his fingers brushing over his plump lips and smiling faintly.

Flicking the middle switch on, light illuminating the outside porch, Kurt drew the white door open, a giant smile over taking his cheeks, lighting his eyes. "Hello?"

...But the porch was empty, save for a daintily wrapped blue box. Looking around the winter wonderland, in case this was a clever attempt at yet another homophobic prank, and deciding it was safe, he plucked the package off the snow and cradled it to the crook of his elbow.

He folded the blue paper over his arm, careful not to rip the tape and flipping a lid of a black box open to reveal two ceramic figurines. Blood rushed to his vision, and his heart pounded in his ears, no longer filled with the joy of the kiss. Because, cushioned lightly in a light blue tissue paper was a bride and groom, clutching hands and black paint chipping from the tuxedo. Because, cushion lightly in the mysterious package was the small sculpture he was going to plant above his parent's wedding cake.

His flannel covered chest heaved, and the box dropped to the ground, tipping to the side and spilling onto the empty porch. Kurt stared at the dark crack that had spidered its way on the white, slightly sparkling dress of the bride.

How long he stood there, between the warmth of his home and the cold of the exterior, he would never know. Because, as he finally lifted his head and his eyes fell on a loan figure, illuminated by the street light, he forgot the entire world.

Hands stuffed into a large red and white letterman jacket, brows pulled together in a frown and snow flowing into the messy brown locks, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a ray of lamp light, stood Dave Karofsky. Kurt watched, shocked, as the butch figure turned and waddled down the street.

"Hey! Hey! Wait!" Kurt hollered, leaving the warmth of the carpet on his bare toes and stumbling down the veranda steps, he gave chase to the fading foot ball player.

The wind picked up as Christmas lit houses streaked by and the cold snow pierced at his flushed cheeks like daggers to a baby. The frozen and icy ground stabbing angrily into his bare toes. Why hadn't he slipped on his slippers before chasing the (probably) crazy jock through the winter night? The cold chilling him to the very depths of his bones. Why hadn't he grabbed a jacket? Why had he even given chase? He wasn't a hundred percent sure, he didn't know.

He followed the dark shape ahead of him, growing steadier and steadier away without actually running. The snow clung to his flannel and his feet lit on fire as he ran threw a small snow drift. The figure walked through one last gate. Before the form disappeared into one of the many backyard sheds, the warmth melting the snow around the wooden building.

The Hummel's weren't picked on; and they sure as hell never let some Neanderthal bully push them around.

Stumbling to a stop ( he had lost all feeling to his toes a few blocks back ) as he reached the circle of green grass snow melted and water evaporated from the high temperature, he peered into the hut, surprised at what he saw. Posters of all kinds and a very welcoming fresh cookie smell.

"Hello?" he asked again. Although, this time he wasn't on the receiving end of an unexpected visitor, he was the unexpected visitor.

When no reply came, he crept forward and peeked into the room. It wasn't white like what he was accustomed to, but pale blue wallpaper with yellow daisies. Clutching his lips together to keep from laughing out loud, he slid through the door. There wasn't much to laugh at, as it looked like any other teenagers room, though lacking in the dirty clothes on the floor aspect.

The jacket had been discarded onto the ground, because, other than a dirty looking bed that was pressed against the far wall, there was no furniture. None at all. Kurt bent down and picked up the jacket, debating whether or not he should put it on. He was freezing, even when he was standing next to the old school heater. And even though it was Dave Karofsky's coat, he was thinking of pulling it over his blue tinged arms, just for some amount of relief.

But a thick, beefy hand clamped over his mouth, and he instantly dropped the leather material, fighting the hands that locked his wrist together. Kurt rolled his shoulders, kicked his feet, bit the sausage fingers and struggled with every ounce of battle he could draw from his frozen body.

But, in the end it wasn't enough. His red flannelled chest was pushed against the far wall, next to the bed, his cheek bruising against the wallpaper and liquid streaming from his clamped shut eyes. Why did he have to go and chase the stupid oaf? Why couldn't he have stayed safe and sound in his home? Where he wouldn't have gotten frost bite and where he had a man to keep him warm.

The walls pressure disappeared and was instantly replaced with the soft force of a blanket. Hard and needy lips crashed passionlessly and painfully against his, ignoring the slat water that dripped quickly onto the bed. It tasted nothing like the one from earlier, laced with cheap gas station beef jerky and cigarette. It was hard, and even worse than the one from the locker room of McKinley high.

A steady heaviness pushed him deeper into the mattress, the duvet pooling around his abused head and his fingers tangling under his torso to clench into the material. Shaking digits worked at his red and green buttons, popping open the flannel and exposing his toned chest to the cold air before it, the cold, was replaced by the warmth and moisture of sweating flesh.

Kurt struggled once again, trying to shrink away from the weight, the attack, but to no prevail, and hands stroked down his side, digging at his hips and tracing sharp words into his sides before slipping under his waist band and fingering the sensitive skin along the elastic line. He whimpered against the teeth that scrapped his pearly whites, tears flowing freely down his temple to mingle with his ears, his hair.

"You like this Hummel?" _No! Get off me!_ But the sobs shook his chest, preventing anything but a cry for help. "You want me, Hummel?"_ Oh! God no!_ The flannel slid down his dry skin, and the heat from skin-on-skin made him shiver.

"Open your eyes, Hummel," the husky voice growled in his ear; the hands pawed at the elastic of his boxers, snapping them angrily against his freezing skin. Kurt's stomach rolled and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold the acid in. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last.

Strong hands shook his shoulder, pulling him away from the mattress and restricting him from lashing out. "Open your eyes, Kurt."


	10. Pressure

**Sorry its posted a little later than usual... and it's a little shorter than usual... o well :(**

**Oh... you people are the shit. Really you are! Thanks for following. And reviewing. It was quite an entertaining time when I read them all. Some of you are so clever... you make me happy, so I hope this is dec enough for you. **

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Nine: Pressure**

**Disclaimer: I wish.**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"Open your eyes, Kurt," Blaine yelled, just barely ducking under a flailing arm and driving, once again for the shaking shoulder.

Kurt continued to thrash, a leg kicking out and marking Wes tightly in the stomach. David could hear the air whoosh from his friend's lungs as he stumbled back. "Get off me! Get off!" Kurt cried tears splashing around and thickly to his blankets and eyes clenched tightly shut.

"Kurt, it's just a dream. Please stop!" Blaine attempted, for what seemed like the millionth time, to shake his friend into consciousness. He had been headed back to his room; he only just got back from Tennessee, from visiting his crazy parents, when he heard the shouts coming from Kurt's thick door.

He had knocked, listening with wide eyes as the cries got louder and more often, the 'No! Get off me!' shook him to the core. He knew that no one was in the room, but his feelings for the petite soprano had him racing down the hallway and skidding to a stop outside of a wooden door.

It had taken some persistent knocking to finally convince his friends to get out of their beds at such an ungodly hour, but they had. They had followed him down the hall to where the cries had progressed even more. Wed quickly, with shaking and clammy hands, picked the lock and threw the door open, revealing the heavy sweating, deep in sleep Kurt.

It pained his heart to see his friend in such a pathetic from, blankets tossed around and rumbled, a gloss of sweat on his forehead and his usually perfect burnet hair sticking to his scalp. Eyes clamped tightly shut, tears rolling down the more than accustomed pale cheeks.

"Open your eyes Kurt!" and this time he did, open his eyes. Blaine was caught in the deep ocean blue for a whole two milliseconds. Just long enough for Kurt to fly off the bed, through the room and slam the bathroom door shut on their faces. David wrinkled his nose as the tell-tale noises of water being splashed echoed around the room, followed by a shaky exhale of breath.

Wes stumbled into a somewhat upright position, rubbing his ribs, "That boys a natural kicker, alright."

"I still can't believe he was on the football team," David mumbled, helping his friend over to the spare bed and flopping onto it.

"You guys don't have to stay; I can make sure he's alright."

"Yah right, we're going to leave our friend right now. After... after _that_."

"Nightmare, I believe..." Wes mumbled into the pillow, rolling his head to stare at his friend, "Go ahead and take your coat off Blaine, I think we'll be here a while."

Following his friends example, he tossed the black coat to the office chair. Turning his back to his friends, who had made themselves comfortable in the second mattress, he straightened the blankets and crawled to rest his back against the head board. He wouldn't fall asleep. Even if it meant five minutes of sleep before the Monday classes started.

Kurt, from the other side of the bathroom door, listened to this casual conversation continue, staring into the greenish white tinge over his face. Grabbing the blue toothbrush, he scrubbed at his teeth for a long moment. Not only spitting away the bile taste of acid, but also the memory – the nightmare, rather – of the phantom lips on his.

His hands shook and he was cold to the bone, like he had actually gone running through the cold December night's air. _But you didn't_, he reminded himself, _you're safe in Dalton, in the warmth and far away from Dave Karofsky._ This calmed his racing heart some, but the chilled, shaken feeling in his bones only grew.

He stumbled over to the curtain, sleep in his eyes making the floor blur beneath him. Drawing the curtain back slightly, he turned the water on, and crawled in, letting the steam soak through his silk red pajamas. He would never where flannel to bed. _Never_.

Sliding down the tile of the shower wall, Kurt sat under the rush of water, clenching his knees to his chest and resting his forehead above it all. The water washed over him, washing away the filth, the nightmare, the cold.

How long he was in there, he wasn't sure. But when he stepped out of the hot water and onto the yellow bath mat, pajamas dripping and fingers winkled, he was sure it had been the closer to an hour.

He stared down at the puddle slowly forming under his pruned toes, watching it grow and spread like a rapid forest fire. Maybe getting into the shower with his pajamas on wasn't the best plan. He peeled them off, revealing his scorch red skin and tossed them into the tub, resolving on cleaning the room later in the morning.

"Blaine?" he whispered, wrapping a towel around his middle. Blaine, the real Blaine, not his imaginary, strange Blaine, had awoken him. Always there for Kurt, he was. Karofsky... transferring to Dalton... passing History... and now Karofsky again. He probably owed his friend for life, "Blaine?"

Kurt made his way to the white door, slowly unlocking it and peaking his head out. The light flooded into the dark room, basking the second (usually unused bed) out of darkness. He stared at the two boys for a minute, surprised. He hadn't realized that Wes and David had come as well, but could they blame him? He needed to get to the bathroom.

Clicking the light off, and basking the room, once again in darkness, he felt his way around the edge of the room, heart thumping quietly in his chest and bones warmed to the point that moving wasn't painful.

Making his way stealthily over to his dresser, he pulled the top drawer open, wincing as it squeaked into the quiet, and pulled out his second favorite pair of pajamas. He pulled them on quickly, wondering what had happened to the third companion. Would he have just up and left?

Turning to stumble his way to his bed, he realized that, no, Blaine never would have left him. There he sat, curly hair squished to the head board and arms wrapped tightly across a pillow. Kurt watched him for a minute, but slowly retreated, stealing his pink blanket and curling into the cushioned chair in the corner.

Just once in his life, he wished he didn't have to have a crush on someone who seen him as a younger brother. Was that so much to ask?

Sighing, he tucked his feet under his bottom and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. The familiar softness of it calmed him down and secured him. He was deeply grateful for Finn, helping him sneak it in.

Kurt was almost one-hundred percent sure that he wouldn't be able to sleep again this night, but as the glowing red numbers clicked from 3:36 to 3:37, his eyes dropped ever so slightly. Again they fell at 3:38, and by 3:39 he was asleep. Dreams void, and toes chilled, but asleep none the less.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"Kurt," a soft hand feathered over his shoulder, gently waking him from the quiet, peaceful, empty escape he had slipped into. He blinked his eyes tiredly and aloud a single, loud yawn to cover his face before his eyes slipped shut again, "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, wakey wakey."

Kurt pushed the hands away and stumbled to a standing position, pulling the blanket to father over his fist and rubbing his eye sockets. "How old are you again? Because you sound like a ten year old girl."

"You look like a ten year old girl," Blaine's tell tale hearty laughter filled the room as Kurt tumbled over to his closet, blindly grabbing a uniform out and making his way to the bathroom. He didn't want to be late, and he certainly wasn't going to change with Blaine in the room.

"Where did Wes and David go?" he yelled through the door, pulling a white cuffed shirt over his head, yawning as the soft fibers slid over his nose.

The reply was slow in coming, and sounded far off, like from the other side of the room, "They went to get coffee. Never the morning people..."

Exiting the bathroom, Dalton jacket folded over his arm and tie slightly crooked around his neck, he examined the exhibit. Blaine was rummaging through the closet, loose tan pants tightening as he lifted a pair of shoes, and turning around. Kurt looked quickly to the floor, fiddling with his tie.

Dressed feet entered his vision and hands brushed his away, straightening the tie to perfection. Blaine let his hands hover by the delicate skin of the cheekbone, hesitantly inquiring, and "How are you?" The chin quivered ever so slightly, but that was all prompting he needed. His arms lopped the rest of the way around the neck, sliding down and enclosing the cracked boy in a loose hug. It was a little awkward, admittedly, without the heeled shoes on the taller of the two, they were the same height. But Kurt's hands slowly wrapped the hug back, sighing into it.

He wouldn't let his dream, this figment of his imagination haunt him. Nightmares come and go. He would be fine. He would be strong. For Blaine, for Wes and David, for the Warblers and his parents, he swore this wouldn't affect him.

"I'm fine," Kurt stepped away from the touch, shivering a bit when the warmth of his friend's body left. "I'll be fine." A few more times and he might just convince himself of this lie.

Blaine stared into his ocean blue eyes, and Kurt felt a rush of heat to his cheeks. Always the protector, checking if he was actually alright or if he was going to go jump out of the Astronomy tower. But he finally accepted it, nodding cheerfully and motioning to the thick door, "We better get going, the bells going to ring fairly quickly now."

"After you, good sir," Kurt held the door open and motioned for Blaine to leave with a room of his hand. They walked, side by side, down the hall in quiet, stopping in front of a door that was admitting loud, obnoxious shouts.

"That's _my_ sock!"

"Well that's _my_ tie!"

Blaine chuckled and rapped a beady knuckle against the wood, yelling over the screaming. "Guys, hurry it up! We're going to be late!"

"Who's at the door?"

"I don't know. _I'm_ trying to find a sock."

"Who's there?" Wes hollered, throwing the door open and blinking into the harsh florescent light, "Oh, Blaine and Kurt. David! Hey David!" he yelled, glancing over his shoulder to his dark friend, who was pulling on a white sock, clashing angrily with the red on the other foot, "Hey David! It's Kurt and Blaine. You know, our two adorably gay friends. You know who I'm talking about?"

Kurt watched this ramble with a slight smile playing on his lips. His friends were so strange! Blaine joined in, with exasperation, "It's me, and it's Blaine. Do you remember me, my dear friend? It has been to long! I think you've got your feet mixed up there!"

David growled, ignoring his friends' cheerful chatter and screwing his nose up angrily. "It's too early for this guys, cut it out. Before I cut you off."

"Cut me off? That sounds dreadfully painful, please don't do it good sir!"

David pushed his laughing friend out the door, slamming it with a sigh and rubbing his temples. Kurt's smile widened as Blaine and Wes continued to ramble off useless information, "Did you know a cockroach can live for nine _days_ without a head? How long can a human live without a head? We should experiment!" behind them.

When the bell rang through the halls, they had just reached the spiraling stair case. Wes did his usual, sliding down the banister, as the rest of them flew down the steps, coats and bags flapping behind them. David gave Kurt a friendly pat on the back, and cast a angrily look at his other two friends before sprinting down the walls towards his Advanced Chemistry.

Being late for any class at Dalton...well, Kurt had only heard the stories, but it was not something he wanted to experience. So, with the threat in the back of his brain, he raced after his friends towards their English class. The only time he was thankful for his long legs. But, as they reached the last corner, a teacher popped their head out of a class room door and called his name.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kurt groaned and skidded to a stop. Was there a rule against running in the halls? Probably. Blaine and Wes slowed down, but he waved them on. Only he had been called, and he wasn't going to be responsible for their detentions as well.

Sucking in a mighty breath of air, he stuck his head into the empty class room, and looked for the teacher, "Well, boy, don't just stand there! Get in here!" Kurt nodded and pushed the rest of the way in, noting the small boy that sat in one of the front seats.

"Can I help you, Mr. Epp?" Kurt didn't like Ryan Epp, he was mean and nasty and smelt like fast food, all the time. He also taught Kurt History, so that was a straight out okay for hatred.

The teacher motion him to come closer, and he did, trying to keep his nose from crinkling up at the hideous, bulging sweater vest he wore. "Yes, actually Kurt, there is. You are one of my brightest students..."

Kurt inwardly groaned, sure he was about to get bit out for the latest exam. He knew he hadn't done very well, he was sure he had gotten Stalin and Lenin mixed up in at least one of the questions, "If this is about the exam-"

"It's not, so stop talking," Kurt snapped his jaw shut with an audible click, "This is about my charity case, errr, rather my nephew, Stephen." Kurt glanced over his shoulder to the tiny boy in the desk, wondering what this could possibly be about, "Am I correct to understand that you are living in a double, by yourself."

Well, Kurt thought, not if you count the seldom, illegal sleep over's we have once and a while. "Yessir."

"Good, I expect that it would be alright if Stephan moves in with you, then? He's only just transferred, and I don't trust him not to get lost in this maze of a school."

Kurt swallowed drily, "All due respect, sir. Me being a ... tutor of sorts might not be the best plan seen as I've only started to remember how to get to the science corridor."

"That is exactly why I wanted you, Mister Hummel. You should be able to help him in a useless way that no one else can."

Kurt sighed and motioned for the short, skinny boy to follow him into the hall. His hair is black and ruffled all over the place, and even with it standing straight up, he is not taller than Kurt's shoulder. His uniform hangs loosely from his boney shoulders, pillowing around his tiny figure. To Kurt, he looks no older than ten.

"My names Stephen," the boy finally squeaks, a wide smile appearing on his cheeks and his face instantly flushing.

Kurt fights to hold back a smile, because he really does sound like a mouse. "Kurt Hummel, where is you're first class?"

"Amateur Physics with Edith."

"Adith." Kurt automatically replied, walking quickly down the hall, because he already knew the second bell had gone, and that he's going to be late. "She's three doors down from mine, you got that?"

"Three doors down. Adith, not Edith." He promptly repeated racing on his short legs past Kurt as he stopped to turn into his English room, "I'll find you after."

Kurt nodded and slipped into the room, wincing when the chairs squeaked and every single person turned to stare at him. Eyes down cast, and head bowed, he slowly made his way to the only open seat, at the very front of the class. The teacher stood, poised before it and tapping her slim fingers strictly against it.

"You're late, Mr. Hummel."

"Yes Madame." _Offer no excuse_, Blaine's voice echoed in his head, the first time he had been late to a class, but as it was his first day, so it got passed off.

"Luckily for you, Ryan told me he would be holding you up. We're on page 187 in your Mockingbird. And, Wesley, seen as you are finding this all very amusing, you can begin reading and stop when I say so."

Kurt smiled bitterly as Wes moaned and promptly started reading the strange book. Serves him right, laughing at Kurt like that.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"No, Stephen, it's for members only. Can you sing?"

"No."

"Then you can't come in!" Wes snapped, slamming the door on the over eager boy and turning back to the curious Warblers. "What? Continue."

David chuckled quietly and Kurt sank lower into this seat, letting out a long drawn sigh. When he first started attending, he had wished he shared his room. He _wanted_ to share his room with a roommate. But now that he had one, he wished he hadn't. Stephen was not the curly haired, caramel eyed Blaine, and that mean he wasn't a wanted roommate. Also, he didn't shut up.

The council continued to blabber on, and Kurt stared over their heads at the golden cage that held a tiny, quiet yellow warbler. Poor thing, Kurt mused, watching painfully as it flittered around and let out a quiet chirp. Locked in the hideous cage.

Only when a sharp elbow met his ribs did Kurt notice the room had turned there attention to him. He flushed instantly, red coloring from his soft ear and hair line. "Uh, yes?" Beside him, Blaine groaned and buried his head in his hand, "No?"

"Kurt," David chuckled, placing his hands on the long wood council table, "What we said, was having survived the first month of Warblers, we would like to present you with a gift."

Kurt pursed his lips, fighting a smile, "Oh, thanks." The room erupted in quieted giggles as he finally got the speech correctly. His head was screaming _let it not be a bird, please not a bird!_

"A solo in our Christmas Concert."

Kurt jumped to his feet, jaw dropping and heart thumping into his rib cage, "Are you for serious?" Wes laughed full out and nodded, "Just to recap... I, Kurt Hummel, get a solo in the Christmas Concert?"

"Yes, dude, that's what their saying," someone called from the back of the room, chuckling.

Kurt opened and closed his mouth, much resembling a fish, "But- not that I'm complaining, but isn't there someone who...deserves it more? Someone who like, auditioned?"

"Well, in all honesty, Walter broke his ankle," said boy flushed and tried to hide his bound leg behind a cushioned chair, "and you're like, the only other one that can go high enough."

"Consider it an early Christmas Present."

The words sunk in, very slowly, and when they finally slapped him in the face, Kurt emitted a high-pitched squeal, clapping his hands and grinning. The room laughed at his strange antics. "What song? What song do _I_ get a _solo_ in?"

After a year and (almost) a half of never getting serious a solo, the word sound foreign and strange as it tumbled from his lips. Mr. Schuester was a bit biased, and as Blaine had sung most of the leads, Kurt had feared that the council would be a bit biased as well. But then they had surprised him. By giving him a _solo_.

"We were thinking...Baby It's Cold Outside..." Wes mumbled, holding back a grin as Blaine looked just as surprised as Kurt did, "Blaine did such a good job on it with that girl, Abigail, we thought it would add a nice touch to our Christmas Concert.

Kurt nodded and sank back into his chair, letting the council to continue onto the next hot button topic. But his heart had frozen a bit inside, and he tried to keep a frown from working its way onto his face. Would singing such a romantic song...with another male be such a good idea? Wouldn't people think it was weird? There were a lot of homophobic people in the area; Kurt knew most of them personally.

He voiced his concern later, when they were sitting in Blaine's clean room, having being kicked out by Stephen's over excitement and his just as eager new _best friend_. Wes and David stared at him for a moment, thinking, and he allowed his gaze to flirt to his crush. Blaine looked a little hurt by the worry, like Kurt didn't want to sing with him. Because singing with a hunky guy like Blaine would be so _horrible_.

"Well...we can ban rotting food from the auditorium..."

Wes winced and retracted his offer when a blue ball point pen flipped to the center of his forehead. David glared at him for a moment before reaching over and patting Kurt's hand softly, "You do realize we go to an all boys' school, right?"

And it finally sunk in. _Duh,_ Kurt scolded, mentally beating himself up. Who else do you think they would get to sing it with? A teacher. That is even weirder. The relief washed over the worry, basking him in excitement.

But then he remembered he would be singing a romantic Christmas song with his friend, his_ crush_.

Cue the panic.


	11. Regrets

**Sorry this is late, my mama made me do my homework first. Stupid teacher called and said I didn't hand it in, well news flash, teacher: I have fan fictions to write. **_**God**_**. **

**Okay, WOAH I am pleasantly surprised at the number of people that reviewed! Holey fricken flying striped cows! And the favorites? And the follows?**

**HOLEY STRIPED COWS!**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Ten: Regrets**

**Disclaimer: nope-itty-nope**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Moaning loudly, Kurt rolled and blindly reached out to smack his alarm clock. His fingers finally found the large rectangular button, and he pushed down angrily. He wasn't ready to get up yet! It felt like he had only just fallen into slumber.

True enough, if he had fallen asleep earlier he wouldn't be stumbling his way through his room. The cold water of the shower slowly woke him up, washing away the sleep-dust from his red rimmed eyes.

He had lain in bed for what felt like hours, dirty fuzzy blanket (he really should throw it out soon) pulled tightly over his shoulders and heart racing under his ribs. At first, it had been because he would be singing a solo part in a duet, with _Blaine_. But it had slowly faded away (because really, he had already help him practice it, and it was a lot of fun, it wouldn't be so different, just in front of a bigger audience) and was replaced with the fear of dreams.

He was scared to fall asleep; he didn't want to answer that door again. And then, on the brink of slumber, the words invaded his thoughts. One from the dream; from his friend. _A dream is something that fills up the emptiness inside. The one thing that you know if it came true, all of the hurt would go away._

Now, to Kurt, this could mean two very important things. One; Blaine might just be on crack, because he was sure Rachel had given them a speech something along those lines when Bryan Ryan had visited.

And two; if the words were true, did that mean that the dream was supposed to be comforting? Because for a few minutes there (mostly around the deep and passionate kiss with a taller teen) it had been nice, peaceful, romantic. Everything he had been looking for, after he left McKinley. But...Kurt didn't want it to come true. Did he want his dream-rape to become the real thing? And it certainly wouldn't help the hurt go away.

Sometimes, Kurt mused as he stepped out of the shower and pulled on his navy pants, dreams didn't make sense, and they were just thoughts that couldn't be thought during the day.

Honestly, in reality, he had been afraid something along those lines would happen. Before he transferred away from Dave Karofsky, before he found three phenomenal new friends. Of course, he hoped that if that day ever came, he wouldn't be stupid enough to go running around outside in only his ugly flannel pajamas.

Shoving all thoughts of Karofsky from his mind, far in the deep corners where it could creep out later that night, he exited the bathroom and strode over to the closet. He pulled it open for a moment, staring at the mass of clothing, before he remembered. They had moved his clothes out of the second closet, out of _Stephen_s closet. Because, Kurt Hummel had a roomie.

Conscious of his exposed skin, he dug around, looking for the red sweater vest and a clean red and blue tie. The soft material slipped over his skin, but was stopped as cold hands pressed against his sides.

"Hey Kurt," a voice whispered huskily in his ear.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders to his ear, shivering away from the touch, from the voice. Smoothing the shirt down, he glared over his shoulder and his two laughing friends. "What the hell do you think your doing?"

"What? We thought it would help with your fantasies of Blaine," Wes said, shaking with laughter and crossing the room to the office chair, where he promptly spun to but his hiking clad boots onto the wood.

Kurt tidied the closet before crossing and pushing the boots off his desk, swiping the paper beneath them and shoving them angrily into his messenger bag. "One. Blaine and I are friends, so I don't have fantasies about him, unless it involves us strangling you two," _well,_ he condemned to himself, _none that you'll know about_. "Two, how in the hell did you get in here?"

"Wana know a secret, Kurt?" Wes whispered, glancing around the room like someone might be listening, "we're stealthy."

"I do spontaneously break out in ninja moves," David mused from where he was laying on Kurt's bed.

"Oh shut up," Kurt snapped, eyes feeling like stones in his skull and arms stinging with refusal as he made them pick up the heavy bag and sling it over his shoulder, "Where is Blaine, anyways?"

David somersaulted off the bed, landing elegantly on his feet, and raising his arms in a majestic monarch kind of way, looking like he would love anything to yell, _See, I am a ninja!_ But in stead, as they headed out of the door and towards the common area, "He's practicing for tonight."

"Why would he need to practice? We all know the words off by heart."

Wes chuckled and grabbed an orange from the bowl of fruit, and inspected it with an inquisitive eye, "That's what we said last year..."

"And then he got the lyrics to 'Rocking Around the Christmas Tree' and 'Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer mixed up."

Kurt snorted as he took a sip of his Earl Grey, choking on it violently. David reached a hand across his back and pounded on it happily, "I know, right? They aren't even close. It was hilarious...I wish Addison got it on tape..."

"Hey, she said she was coming for it this year, right?"

David chewed thoughtfully on the waffle, before slowly nodding, "Yeah, the Mrs. And Mr. aren't coming, so yeah."

"Why would that make a difference?" Kurt asked, watching as his friends dug into their piles of breakfast, wondering if he should maybe grab some food, but than he remembered; in a scarce four hours he would be singing...with Blaine...that song...in front of all those people...and suddenly, the maple syrup didn't look as appetizing.

David and Wes shared a strange look before they carefully attempt to explain "Addison and her parents don't get along so great..."

"When Blaine told them he was gay, they kicked him out." Kurt hissed and placed the cup onto the table angrily. How could they do that? To their own son, none the less. And why would Blaine ever go back there? All these questions left Kurt in a daze.

Blaine had always been so forward about everything. So optimistic and forever trying to raise the mood of the room. All the days he had offered his help, his shoulder to cry on and his ears to listen, even when Kurt had been at McKinley and Blaine at Dalton. All those days, and he never even bothered to ask how he knew so much. So much about being accepted and wanted, even if they were gay. And to find, his parents _didn't _want him, they didn't _accept _him.

Opening his mouth to go on a Rachel Berry worthy rant about undeserving, unwanted, homophobic parents, Wes held up and finger for Kurt to calm down, pointing to David as he quickly swallowed and explained; "But then Addie moved to Lima, with Blaine, to their uncles, and I guess having lost both your kids leave, woke them up. They groveled for Blaine to come back, that they were sorry."

"But he held strong and wouldn't go back to Tennessee with them, nope. He stayed here with his two awesomest friends. Fast forward three years and here we are." Kurt frowned, deep in thought. Blaine had been strong, all that time. Kurt knew how hard it was to disobey parents, but he stayed at Dalton. So he could be who he wanted to be.

It explained a lot of things; why Blaine never talked about his filthy rich parents, why he had been forced to move to Dalton, why Addie had opened up her own café at such a young age, and, partially, why he was so kind. But what it _didn't_ explain, bringing them back to the start of the conversation, was why Addie couldn't be around her parents.

It was never about her, it was about her awful parents and her gay brother. "So why would Addie not want to be around her parents?"

"Ah, that..." David sighed, pushing his empty plate aside and stretching back in the comfortable chair. "Well, when her parents got an envelope in the mail... a university application acceptance, and a full ride scholarship, they flew out and gave it to her personally."

"Only, she never applied for the scholarship." Wes shook his head mournfully and picked at his fruit cup.

Kurt looked back to David, as he resumed the story, "No, her choir teacher sent it in. Addie was so livid with Mrs. C, she drove out here and had a bitch fit about it. Told her parents she didn't want it. I think she even threw it into the fireplace. Her parents weren't too happy with that, yelled at her and all that. Accused her of doing drugs and even had the police inspect their uncle's house."

"Didn't find nothing, of course, but the police sent her back home. We never did find out what went down in Tennessee, but she won't even be in the same room as them." Wes concluded, standing from the chair and leading them out of the loud and bustling cafeteria.

Kurt absorbed all this information together, nodding slowly with understanding. What dramatic lives they lived! "But where was she accepted to?"

"New York, baby," Wes swaged, shaking his head at Kurt's gasp, "You have to be crazy to decline that school. Full scholarship and everything."

David poked him in the side, glaring, "But she loves the Giraffe, and not everyone wants to grow up and be in an Asian boy band."

"What did her teacher say about it?"

David glanced at this, shrugging, "Not so sure, never crossed my mind to ask. She quit the choir then and there, though. Cold turkey."

"I haven't heard her sing since either," Wes sighed sadly, wondering who someone could just up and quit something they were so amazing at, "Last time was..."

"Vocal Adrenalines invitational's, I think..."

Wes nodded quickly, confirming this new information that had Kurt stop dead in the center of the hall, "Yeah, because that all happened before Sectionals..."

"Wait. Hold up! You're saying that _Addie_ was in _Vocal Adrenaline_? She went to that loser of a school?"

Wes and David stopped a short foot ahead of the stunned boy and gave him identically confused looks. "Uh... yeah... she was the lead female... before... you know..."

Kurt stood stunned in the hallways and people buzzed around him, the bell ringing from the ceiling. He feels as if he might just barf up his heart, how fast it's fluttering in its rib-caged heart.

Before he knew it, Dalton Academy has whispered away from his mind, and sitting around a lush green tree, Muppets paused in the background and a group of fifteen or so teenagers sat around laughing.

"You guys go on, I forgot my homework... I'll see you at lunch..."

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

The gold wire cage was placed softly on his knees, the door swung open, and the bird flittered on his finger. Gently hopping back and forth and nipping at his smooth finger. He watched the yellow warbler for a few minutes, before his ocean blue eyes slipped to a spot on the opposite wall, seeing what wasn't really there.

He had forbid him mind from going there, from going back to that terrible dream. Just earlier this morning he had vowed to forget all about it. And there he sat, staring off into the distance and the slow twinkle of lights coming into view. It was scary. But he had to do it. He had to know.

Because he had a sneaking suspicion that Addie and Vocal Adrenaline had something to do with it; just like he had a sneaking suspicion that Blaine had purposely hid his newly acquired information from him.

The room slowly slid into focus, but this time he wasn't sitting on the floor, getting a back massage from Blaine, because it was defiantly Blaine, instead he watched it from a spot above the group. Watching his dream-self arch his head back and rest it on Blaine's knees.

But why would Blaine with hold that sort of information from him? It didn't change their relationship – rather, their friendship. It didn't change the fact that Karofsky kissed him in the locker room or that he now had a big brother. Literally, his brother was huge, not necessarily older. The only thing Kurt would fathom that it would change was his transfer. But even then, why would he lie?

Kurt watched, glassy eyed from the safety of the Warblers choir room, from the warmth of the large red stripped couch, as the doorbell rang and Dream-Kurt jumped up to answer the door. Knowing what was about to happen, he tried to wonder through the room, to get another angle.

Because, as Blaine stood from the couch, he grew. He was no longer the short, curly haired boy from his fantasies. No, his hair grew out, and his black, tight jeans stretched with growth. But he couldn't move to see who his dream-self was kissing. He was stuck, rooted in his spot on the Warblers couch, watching his memory.

Kurt froze, his finger curling into a fist and making the yellow warbler jump away from the sudden tension, because, as he ran up the stairs to answer the door, Blaine walked in from the bathroom and sat beside Rachel by the tree, because his old spot was taken by someone who most defiantly was _not_ Blaine.

A soft pressure made him jump, and the memory of the dream faded away, taking the Mystery Man with it. He quickly retracted his hand from inside the cage, fearing that a teacher had caught him skipping, but, as he looked over his shoulder, he started to frown.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you..." Blaine spoke, sitting next to him on the couch, close enough that their knees touched and he could poke his finger through the gabs of the cage to stroke the bird.

Kurt inspected his friends face for anything out of the norm, half expecting it to slowly change into the Mystery Mans. But it didn't. The long, soft eyelashes stayed the same, and the curls stayed smoothed strictly into a more mature fashion. The freckles, while his sister had many dark, were light and not noticeable, if you didn't know where to look.

The eyes; liquid caramel when he was blissful; dark flashing brown when he was stressed over homework, or their over helpful friends; flashing with the darkest blue when he was angry (which was very seldom); and warm rum, like now, when his was calm and content.

Kurt like the last ones the best, one look into calm Blaine always stopped the jitters. They quickly flashed, now however, to a soft moss green, tinged with blue and blended with the caramel, to something he couldn't connect with an emotion that he knew off.

Blaine's thick eyebrows that always seemed to raise Kurt's mood, shot up, and he realized that the boy was _probably_ waiting for an answer. Looking back to the cage, to the trapped bird and locking the little door, "Yes, I'm fine."

"David texted me and said you looked a little...nervous." Kurt hallway, where he had stood a short hour ago, frozen having found out Addie was a part of Vocal Adrenaline (thankfully, not the half that played with his friends heart, and not the half that beat them brutally at Regionals) and finding a piece of the puzzle that might just connect.

Racking his brain for a reason he was sitting in the choir room, playing with a bird, when he should be in class, thinking about a dream make out scene that he had originally thought was Blaine, but know he knew it wasn't... "Just nervous for the concert."

"Hey now, we're going to blow their minds!" Blaine laughed, bumping their knees together and smiling the smile that made Kurt's insides melt. In a good way.

Kurt rose from the cushion, his legs protesting loudly at the sudden use, and carefully carried the cage over to its perch, fastening it so it wouldn't accidently fall. He watched as the bird flittered around the cage, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth growing until it was a full out grin, "Yeah we are. Hey Blaine?"

"Yeah?" he asked, curiosity lacing with his words. Well, you couldn't blame him, really.

Kurt crossed the room and sat back on the couch, turning to face his friend, but leaving a much larger margin of space, "All those times Rachel and Finn threatened you... about Jesse...how come you never said you knew him?"

"Well," Blaine sighed, a mixture of emotions crossing his face, "I knew what he did, and I knew who he was. Hell, there wasn't a weekend when I came home that he wasn't over... but honestly...I don't really know him. Do you understand?"

Kurt pursed his lips before bluntly and blatantly telling Blaine, "No, I don't."

"Did you ever notice that he was _different_ in school? Than the way he was in Glee?" Kurt slowly nodded, recounting a time that the 'guys' hung at the basketball court, "Well, I only knew him when he was that fun, carefree guy...and when he started dating Rachel...well I didn't know who he was at all. Vocal Adrenaline changed him, when Addie left, I guess. He was mad at her, for leaving. But, I just didn't think we knew the same Jesse. Mentally."

Kurt nodded, taking this all in and actually understanding it. It a way, they were similar, Kurt tried to be a more sophisticated in the Warblers, and Jesse did the same for all schooling. Only outside, with friends he trusted to like him for him would Jesse shine. "Thanks, for telling me."

They sat in silence, Kurt was watching the coffee table, trying to settle his nerves before lunch, before is solo, but he could feel the sexual tension growing, whether it was there or just another fantasy.

After a few minutes, Blaine opened his mouth to speak, and Kurt whipped his head to the side, waiting expectantly, "Kurt..." the bell on the warbler's cage chimed, and Kurt matched his rapid heart beat to it. "Never mind."

Flashing quickly back to the coffee table, Kurt resisted gasping out loud and a cold hand rested against his knee, squeezing slightly as the owner sat back on the couch and looked to the ceiling.

Glancing at the hand, still on his leg, Kurt fought the bubbles of giggles that grew in his chest. The _rightness_ of the situation. Now was as good as time as any to jump face first into a pit he wasn't so sure he wanted to enter.

"Kur-" "Blaine" Biting his lip, Kurt looked to the window and let out a soft laugh, embarrassed. "Go ahead." He offered, curious to see what the other wanted.

Eyes still on the frosted windows, he felt Blaine scooch forward on the cushion, until they were at the same level, "Was just going to say that you don't have anything to worry about, everyone's going to love it. What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, it doesn't really matter," _Stop being such a chicken and just tell him already!_ His subconscious yelled, ringing through his head but not convincing him.

The hand was back, a warm, friendly reassurance on his knee, and "Come on, Kurt. I'm not that stupid, you can trust me."

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face his friend, ready to spill the beans, but something caught his breath. The light from behind the unruly hair, the caramel eyes, the way the lashes blinked slowly together, the thin array of freckles, the handsome nose and round chin, and most importantly, the soft pink, plump, not-chapped lips from his dream.

The soft brown, feathery lashes blinked together once again, but Blaine didn't move an inch as Kurt leaned ever so slightly forward. His gaze flickered, anxiously, from the soft eyes to the lips. One side was turned in, like Blaine was biting his lips. Like Blaine was pondering how wrong it was.

Kurt pulled back abruptly, slamming his back into the armrest and looking any where but the person in front of him. Face read, heart stuttering, he stood from the couch and mumbled something about being late and fled the room.

Too quickly to see how Blaine flopped back on the couch, throwing one hand over his eyes and muttering to himself.

"Stupid Blaine, stupid! Why didn't you just kiss him?"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Kurt flopped into the cushioned seat at an empty table, staring at the apple that rolled before him. He most _defiantly_ was _not_ hungry. He had only just calmed down enough that his cheeks weren't the bright fire truck red they had been a scarce five minutes ago.

Wes and David dropped into chairs beside him, oblivious to the unusual quiet, "...And he said, 'sugar plum purple!'" Kurt watched as they broke into a loud round of laughter, fathoming what could possibly be so hilarious about the story, but not bothering to ask, he was too deep in self pity.

"Blaine! Blaine over here!" David suddenly yelled, stopping the laughter and waving their friend to join them. Kurt wondered if he could run away without anyone being suspicious, but Blaine had already taken the seat across from him and greeted his friends with a hasty hello.

The four of them sat in silence, David shoveling macaroni into his mouth, Wes doing the same, but with a grilled cheese, and Blaine aimlessly stirring his noodles. Kurt sat there, still as a board and staring at the grains of the wooden table.

"Well... this isn't awkward" Wes mumbled around his sandwich, Ketchup catching on his lip.

David must have aimed a kick for his shin, but missed terribly. Tears sprung to Kurt's eyes as he bent low to the table, cheek hovering just above it, as he rubbed his leg, "Ow!"

"Shit! Shit I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, no I'm fine," Kurt mumbled straightening up and avoiding his friends' anxious looks. He bit the inside of his cheek, filling his mouth with the coppery taste of blood and fiddled with his sweater.

David looked regretfully at his macaroni, abandoning the fork to the side of the bowl and blinking across the table, "You should eat... its not good to perform on an empty stomach. And we go on in less than an hour."

"I know," Kurt agreed voice hollow and lacking of emotion. However, he didn't move to grab the apple, instead, settling with staring at it with a vacant expression. Piercing his lip with white teeth to keep from crying out.

In less than an hour, he was going to go up onto the auditorium stage and sing Baby Its Cold Outside. With his friend, with his friend who knew (probably) knew of the crush and hated him for it. He had just tried to kiss him after all, and if that didn't make things awkward enough, he would go sing with him, one of the most romantic Christmas songs known to man, and it wouldn't be the same as the first time.

In less than an hour, his crush would be asking him to stay, stay inside and out of the cold. And he just wasn't sure he could do that.


	12. Dance in the Rain Scream in a Storm

**Wow. You guys continue to surprise me. I still love ya'll! Yup I do! I hope this lives up to expectations! **

**Sorry this is slow to update, my days have been hectic. And remember that O.C. I made? Stephen? Well his title has been revoked because I found someone better for my plan. MWAHAHAHA. Sorry to confuse you like that…**

**Also, in attempt to update daily, the chapters will be slightly shorter. And more fluffy, because, you know it's Christmas. Oh, Review because i love you too!**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Eleven: Dance in the Rain; Scream in a Storm**

**Disclaimer: I wish I could come up with something witty but I can't, so just know that I don't own Glee, or any of the Characters aside from Addie.**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

The snow fell softly around his huddled figure, a scarce fifty feet from the school. The music just reached his ears, and the chiming laughter followed it. He wished he were in there, with his friends, his parents, his brother, rather than outside.

But instead, he slipped his runners off, tucking his feet onto his legs and staring wistfully into the forest across the street. The red and white sweater, oddly formal Dalton attire, is crooked on his shoulders, but he doesn't care so much anymore.

They had performed. Of course they had, the show must go on, as the saying goes. The audience cheered and clapped deafening loudly. And he had smiled, he remembered smiling, laughter bubbling in his chest, before looking over. The bubble popped, puncturing his heart like an icy blade, and a fake smile planted itself on his lips.

_He wouldn't even look at me._

Escaping the bouncing Warbler crowd had been hard enough, but getting away from his parents took some serious skill. Thank goodness for the schools second-head, who had come to his rescue and whisked off his parents, taking them on the formal tour and discussing his academics. Which, by the way, were all at least 'A's'.

Slipping away from his brother hadn't even been difficult like he imagined it would have. Rachel had pounced off the spy on her competition, sneaking backstage like a fan girl, and he had wordlessly pointed to the table piled high in sugary, calorie-filled Christmas cookies. And that was the last he had seen of Finn.

_He wouldn't even look at me._

He had pushed out the tall wooden doors, breathing in the warm air and the clouds that fell slowly, wonderfully to the ground. It wasn't as warm as inside, obviously, but the slight chill and damp was a welcome difference to his heavy sweating body.

Walking between people, and dodging families, he had made his way through the parking lot, without falling on his ass; the warmth had turned the beautiful snow into ice. He had spotted his fathers large green truck, you know, the one that practically screamed 'hick'. But he had continued past it, seeing a bench the size of his middle finger laid horizontal in the distance.

It must have been placed there before they re-did the grounds, because it was facing away from the large brick building, pointed towards the trees and nothing. The stones that had been glues together were surprisingly comfortable, even the ones that poked out at uneven angles. Anything would be comfortable now.

_He wouldn't even look at me. _

His breath fogged up briefly, quickly dissolving in the darkness. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and yet, the snow continued to fall into his hair and over his clothes. One snowflake in particular landed softly on his pant leg, and he leaned in to inspect. It wasn't like any of the others that covered his material.

It was perfectly square, without any frozen peaks or sharply pointed corners. They glistened in the light of the moon, shining like a bright white beacon on the dark blue-black pants.

_Put me out of my misery._

The words hummed in his oddly empty head and he lifted a finger, hovering over the single snowflake. So different from the rest, do unique it was painful. He let out a slow breath, and dropped his nail, leaving his fingerprint on the short life of the snowflake. It died in less than two seconds, melting through his pants and leaving a damp circle on his thigh.

Turns out, it was the same as all the others.

Falling in love with other unique snowflakes and being crushed behind the weight of one decision. He wished a giant finger could melt him, shape him like all the others. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if he were the same. If he were normal.

_He wouldn't even look at me._

The tears finally came, bitter sweat tears laced with heartbreak. They frozen before they even got the chance to fall from his chin to the stones beneath him. Hanging gently as a droplet, before being rubbed away with the scratchy material of a woolen mitt.

_And it's my fault._

The realization hit like a ton of bricks being dropped from a sky scraper. If only he hadn't felt that moment of weakness. If he had red those beautiful eyes, the warning to stay away. But his hand, on his knee, and the closeness of body heat.

_Face the facts, Kurt. You read the signs wrong._

Everything that pointed towards Blaine, towards him being the _one_; the one to fix his broken identity; the one to relight the fire in his voice, in his passion… The one to break his heart.

"So…how do you like Dalton?"

Heart racing with surprise and eyes stretching wide, he swiveled on the stone bench to look at the newcomer behind him. Tall, dark faded jacket that was pulled up to his elbows, a dark black band on the right wrist. Un-kept waving hair, piercing green eyes.

"Jesse St. James, been seeing more and more of you and I'm not sure I like it," the words were out of his mouth the millisecond he thought them. He hadn't really meant to, it was a little rude, so he turned quickly back to the trees. Hiding his embarrassment in the lurking darkness.

The tiny layer of snow crunched as Jesse walked around the stone, across Kurt's line of vision and sat down a on the far side, careful to leave just the right amount of distance between them, "Well, I would apologize, but seeing as I'm stalking you, it's only fair."

Kurt chuckled along with the loud laughter, but watched out of the corner of his eye, to make sure that the older man didn't inch over. Stalking wasn't necessarily above the ex-Vocal Adrenaline. Not after how he brought Shelby and Rachel together.

"I was kidding, I came with Addison," he clarified, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing the heavy hiking boots one over the other. Kurt nodded, but didn't say anything. He just stared out at the trees, eyes flickering as leaves crunched and snow dropped. "So why are you out here by yourself?"

He couldn't very well ignore a direct question, his father had brought him up properly, after all. He thought of all the answers he could give; _Well, I tried to kiss my best friend and I guess he was a little creeped out by it and now he won't talk to me._ "Just didn't feel like dancing, is all…"

"Ah yes, dancing. How horrible can I get?"

Kurt smiled softly as he looked to his lap, picked a finger. He knew, Jesse knew, that that wasn't the real reason. It was part of a collage that became his life, but it wasn't the reason he was sitting outside, in the quickly cooling air. "Pretty damned horrible," he muttered, thinking back to the first answer.

They sat in silence, and for that, Kurt was thankful. He enjoyed not sitting by his lonesome, in sun had long since settled beneath the world, and the moon shone brightly over them. Kurt waited and watched as his breath came in longer, darker, deeper breaths in front of them.

"So, what have you been up to?" Kurt asked, ever so curious if his collage life was as full-filling as his high school drama.

Jesse stopped tapping the stones and laid his ear gently on his slumped shoulders, "Not very much. I got lead in the schools production this spring."

"Oh, really? That's great." Kurt feigned excitement, not really listening.

"Look, I know you guys, like, hate me or something for what I did at Regional's, but I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice, really. If we didn't place, they would have taken away my scholarship, and-"

"I don't hate you, actually," Kurt admitted softly, surprising both of them.

He could feel, on the edge of his vision, Jesse straighten up, "You don't?"

"Well, for what you did to Rachel, yes. But she's better know. She's with Finn, where she belongs, and you gave her a reality check. I don't think they all hate her anymore. I sure don't, she's…bearable."

Jesse chuckled darkly and shook his head, "Well, I'll be darned, Rachel Berry; bearable. What a surprise!" Kurt joined in with the laughter, filling the night with tinkering, unfamiliar chuckling. "But really, who didn't see Finn and Rachel together. I saw it. Even when I was dating her."

"That doesn't mean you had the right to throw _eggs_ at her," Kurt scolded, then chuckled. Because really, if it happened to anyone outside of Glee, he would have laughed out right, "We're brothers now, Finn and I."

"Really?"

"Yup, it's….a experience alright."

Nodding understandably, they sank back into silence, watching the bushes to ensure that no rabid beast would take advantage of two grown boys. Goosebumps littered his arms as the night became darker, the stars brighter and the air colder.

When he finally decided it was cold enough, he sucked in a mighty breath. The air pierced at his lungs, and his cheeks became concave. He held it for a scarce half-minute before billowing it out angrily, creating a single stream of smoke that slowly dissolved into the night.

"Roar. I'm a dragon," he whispered, remembering all those years ago. The front swing on their porch, mommy pressed tightly to his side and becoming anything they wanted. He looked to the stars, finding one in particular. The brightest, most twinkling star in the galaxy.

"_That's where I'm going to live, Kurt. I don't want you to be sad, because, come nightfall, you can always find your way home. I'll always be watching over you."_ Kurt could only hope that his mother was proud of who he had become, where he had gone.

Sniffling back more tears – he refused to cry in public – the air froze his nostrils and his head rocketed forward violently with a sneeze. He wiped the mitten under his nose, frowning as the fibers nipped at his lips.

Chucking, Jesse stood from the bench, reaching his hands to the stars and stretching. Kurt looked quickly away, pretending that his eyes hadn't lingered on the exposed, perfect and pale skin. "Well, baby, its cold outside," he sang lightly, shaking his head comically and offering his hand to Kurt.

Kurt sighed and shuffled his feet into the frozen, empty shoes and took the hand, keeping his balance as his stiff legs finally worked. Jesse didn't let go of the hand, though, as they tottered away from the stone bench. Instead, he tucked it loosely through his arm.

It reminded him painfully of walking through McKinley with Mercedes. Her name brought a pang to his heart. Other than the occasional text here, or the hour-long catch up conversation, they hadn't really talked. Mental note: Christmas Shopping with Mercedes.

A low humming met his ears, and Kurt looked quietly over at Jesse. He was looking skywards, and the humming picked up, louder. Laughing, he pitched at his arm, shaking Jesse back to the present, "Were you just humming to Baby, Its Cold Outside?"

"What of it? It was a good song. You did great, by the way, thoroughly enjoyed it." For some reason, these words caused a blush to erupt in his pale cheeks, flaming in the night. Jesse tightened his hold on Kurt's arm as they reached the steps, a foot away from the door, he stopped.

Kurt turned towards him, head cocked to the side. Jesse was looking towards the stars again, and he rolled his eyes. Trying to step away, he found his arm locked, unable to move.

Jesse's amber eyes caught Kurt, frozen on the front steps of Dalton. Hovering in the loud pounding of Taylor Swifts 'December' seeping through the door. Kurt slid his arm away gently, a frown working onto his brow. "What?"

"Mistletoe."

Kurt's frown deepened at the simple word. Simple word that brought chills to his spine, so again, he asked; "What?" Jesse chuckled softly and pointed towards the canopy over the front door. He hadn't been looking at the stars at all; he had been looking at the bright red berries, and the dark ever green leaves. His mouth popped open and he stared at the taller teen for a minute before finally squeaking, "You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Yes, but messing with you is really too much fun," Jesse stated, eyes lighting up and laughter bellowing soundly from his chest. "I'd suffice for a hug, however. As friends, for old times' sake."

Kurt blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Before breaking into a smile and giggling, "Yes, well, just this once."

And with that, he stepped into the open arms in a masculine hug. It was different; he wasn't accustomed to hugging men. And then, he realized something, he had been missing out.

No, not like that. The answer had been hovering there, in front of him for a long time, almost a week. The tallness; the wavy, soft hair; and the strength of a dancer's body.

Jesse was his Mystery Man.


	13. Every Morning

**Chapter Eleven: Whoops, I'm so stupid and forgot to dedicate it to Lotus, who spawned the mistletoe idea, I'm glad I used it, what with all the positive feedback! And the jesse hate. Poor Jesse. You people are so mean ;)**

**And a big OMG to Irishgirl, I thank you immensely and apologize. I have the spelling skills of a second grader, it's amazing. And I apologize for the ones you're going to find later on. Because there will be some. On that note, sorry for any spelling/gram. errors. I needed to get this up and i was in kindof a rush. god, i hate christmas season Dx so busy**

**sorry for the double; i had to fix something**

**Other than those to, THANKS SO MUCH MY LITTLE DUCKIES! I heart the comments/follows/favourites. They make my day even more spectacular! And I'm not just saying that... so please, continue to make my year!**

**Things to know: Singing is italics. Pretty much all the time.**** Every Morning by Sugar Ray**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Twelve: Every Morning**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Glee there would be no such thing as a break, so I don't own it.**

**XxXxXxXxXxXx**

"_Every morning there's a halo hangin'  
from the corner of my girlfriend's four post bed  
_

Kurt opened his eyes to these strange words, frowning and stretching under his blankets, trying to locate the sounds. It took him a minute to remember that he wasn't in his dorms, but rather in the basement of his home. In his queen sized bed and snuggled between thousands of blankets. It was a voice he hadn't heard sing in a long time. A quiet, tongue-tied sound. So familiar that it could only belong to one awkward teenager. Under his blankets, he grinned and hummed alone to the words.

_I know it's not mine but I'll see if I can use it for  
the weekend or a one-night stand  
Couldn't understand  
How to work it out_"

Finn propped himself up, folding his hands under his arms and staring at the roof with a smile on his face. He felt good. Even better then when they had taken those vitamins, for that mash-up. He had only just woken up, and he recalled a song that had played over the radio on the way home last night. On the way back from Dalton.

Kurt had seemed quiet, answering all their questions with monotone, short answers. "Did you like singing that solo, Kurt?" "S'Okay." "Do you plan on meeting up with any of your friends for Christmas?" "Dunno." And Finn's personal favourite, the ones that made it quite apparent that his brother was down in the dumps and not listening to anything, "So, I'm pregnant." "Good for you, Rachel. That sounds fun."

Not that Rachel was pregnant. No, they hadn't even gotten close to doing _that_. Kurt just replied like she had said she was going to Disney Land or she was entering the Lima Gingerbread House contest next week. Which, by the way, she was. And he was looking forward to eating it afterwards.

"_Once again as predicted left my broken heart open  
and you ripped it out  
Something's got me reeling  
Stopped me from believing"_

Kurt surprised both of them by emerging from the blanket and singing cheerfully along to the song. Upbeat and right on cue. Finn was sure that his brother only listened to show tunes and broadways. The fact that he knew the lyrics to late 90's song was a pleasant morning bolt from the blue.

"_Turn me around again  
Said that we can do it  
You know I wanna do it again  
(Sugar Ray say)  
Oh...  
(Every Morning)  
Oh..."_

Finn threw the blankets off and tittered towards the closet, rubbing sleep from his eyes and stumbling over a poorly placed tee shirt.

"_(Every Morning when I wake up)  
(Shut the door baby, don't say a word)  
Oh...  
(She always rights the wrong, she always rights, she always rights)  
(Shut the door baby, Shut the door baby)"_

Kurt watched his brother's movements with wide eyes. How he could spring out of bed, throw on clothes –clean or dirty, he didn't care- run his fingers through his hair and splash water on his face and finish this to think this was acceptable procedure for being ready for the day.

As Finn plopped back onto his bed, slowly rolling a white sock over his foot and stretching back over the width; head flopping loosely on the side. Kurt sighed and rolled out of bed, listening to his brother sing through the thin bathroom wall.

"_Every Morning there's a heartache hanging  
from the corner of my girlfriend's four-post bed  
I know it's not mine and I know she thinks she loves me  
but I never can believe what she said"_

The song wasn't a particular happy one, lyric wise, Kurt mused, scrubbing the face wash off his cheeks and leaving them a cherry red. But the music that he could remember was upbeat and happy. Wiping the previous night was gone from his memory.

Well, the important parts anyways, like the way Blaine completely ignored him and that little fact that Wes and David bolted the second they saw him walk into the gymnasium. It had hurt, and he had pretty much insisted he was too tired to stay any longer and he really wanted to be in bed, at home.

"_Something so deceiving  
When you stop believing  
Turn me around again  
Said we couldn't do it  
You know I wanna do it again"_

And, by the time they had swung by the Berry's residence, the insisted was the truth. He had fallen asleep with his head pressed tightly to the window, his hand clutched around the thick duffle bag that barely held all his uniforms.

Not that he would need them, the three weeks off of school he got, but it would be nice to re-stalk his closet with the smell of laundry detergent and clean clothing. It would be great, if he could only keep them from getting wrinkly.

"_Oh...  
(Every Morning)  
Oh...  
(Every Morning when I wake up)  
(Shut the door baby, don't say a word)  
Oh...  
(Every Morning)  
Oh..."_

Sighing contently, Kurt pulled a shirt over his head and ruffled up his hair, a light blue v-neck tee shirt with the pocketed Coogi sweatpants. He felt..._dangerous_. And it was very strange. But his new goal was to go with the flow.

And the flow was absolutely leaning towards quite day at home, in the large worn lazy boy and classical movies playing one after another on the big screen television. A tub of ice-cream or two, and an excuse to cry. If he timed it right, it would come during A Walk to Remember. Not that he would actually be thinking about the tragedy.

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

"So what are you boys up to today?" Carol inquired, placing a pile of pancake in front of each of the yawning boys. Truthfully, Kurt had gotten a lot of sleep the night before. More than he had since moving to Dalton dormitories. Something about being in your own home; your own room; your own bed…heavenly.

Finn promptly began to shovel the fluffy golden breakfast into his mouth, hardly pausing to chew before he swallowed. Kurt, being the much more dignified of the two, cut the first one into small pieces. Usually, he objected to eating such a sugary treat for breakfast- usually he would have a banana or an apple and low-fat yoghurt- but they looked so good…and Carol had put so much effort into it…

Swinging his feet under his chair, he pondered over an answer, "I'm not quite sure," and he wasn't. Turns out Rachel had borrowed their _good_ movies. _All_ of them. The only flick left was one Carol and Burt swore was good, but he had never heard of, and had no notion of ever seeing.

"You're not going to hang out with that Blaine boy?" his father asked, walking back into the room and unfolding the morning paper, flipping straight to the forecasting.

Kurt wondered just how he should word it, _Yeah, well, I practically assaulted him and I'm being shunned from everyone who means anything to mean at Dalton._ The silence stretched on, and his family finally looked towards him, brows frowning, and in Finn's case, fork pausing lightly in the whipped cream mountains.

Thankfully, the retro phone brilled, and Kurt jumped to his feet, smiling and reassuring his family that he would get it. Anything for an excuse out of the room. The smile he had been trying to hold in place slipped and he picked the phone up gingerly.

For not the first time in his life, he wished his father wasn't so stuck in the past. The old cradle phone was neat and everything, bright orange in color, but he couldn't see who was calling. There was no such thing as caller I.D. in the Hummel household – probably a main contributor for all the homophobic phone calls. "Hello?" even to him, goes with the flow Kurt, his voice sounded warily.

It wasn't that he was worried about the jocks calling anymore; they didn't really bug him anymore. But he was worried about one curly haired teen hate-calling him. Thankfully, the replying voice was the farthest thing from the male he was almost expecting. "Kurt! Ohmygod! Kurt! You _are_ up! White boy, we need to hook up!"

"Mercedes!" Kurt announced, leaning against the counter and crossing an arm over his torso, "For sure! When? I so need plans for today! Pronto!"

"I think there's a sale at Detox!" she announced, breathing slightly heavier, probably from running down the hall to her room, away from her younger, loud, annoying siblings. "You want me to pick you up in ten?"

Glancing at the sky blue tee, he bit his lip and shook his head, "Uh…better give me fifteen… and how about I pick you up? I need to get some Christmas shopping done, and quite frankly, I think we'll need all the room we can get."

"TYLER!" Kurt pulled the phone away from his ear quickly, wincing as the name echoed in his ears, "Sorry. That sounds good, I'll be –LUCAS!- ready for – damn it Joey!- you in a few minutes. See you then!"

Smiling softly, Kurt looked at the orange cradle, listening to the dial tone. Ten minutes to prep and be perfect as always. Mercedes would be expecting him in the dress from _before_ Dalton, not that he was complaining, but getting ready then had taken almost an hour, and now, now he had ten minutes.

"Hey, dad?" he asked, walking back into the kitchen area, only to find that Finn's plate had been cleared, and he had moved quickly onto the remains of Kurt's halfway to his mouth, only paused from his brothers announcement into the room.

Burt didn't look up from his paper, Finn continued, slower, to shovel the pancakes into his mouth, and Carol had disappeared back into the kitchen. "Yeah, son?"

"Would you mind if I went out with Mercedes? We want to hit up the mall before all the good sales are gone," Kurt stood awkwardly at the back of the table's chair, waiting for his father to approve, waiting to bounce down the stair and go into his slightly dusty dresser.

He was thinking dark green and red argyle sweater… the dark black pants perhaps. It only took his father a few minutes to process this want, and he folded the paper up, staring intently at his son, "Yeah, Mercedes. Invite her over for dinner maybe, I haven't seen her since you moved… and I don't like that you've been hanging out with so many boys."

"Dad," Kurt complained, frown burrowing, but knowing that his father only wanted to keep his son safe. It was almost too late, "I go to an all boys' boarding school. Who do you want me to hang out with? The lunch ladies?"

His father pondered over this for a minute, and Kurt feared that he was actually considering his joke. Which was not a good thing. The caterers were brilliant and everything, but they were also, like, ninety. "No you're right, and you're friends seem alright enough…"

"Thanks dad! We'll be back at six o'clock sharp!"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Rocking back on his heels, Kurt looked closely at the foot before him, before reaching for his glass of orange juice. "And then," Mercedes continued, oblivious to his break, "I swear, I though Lauren was going to go ape-shit on her. I prob would have."

"Well, you can't honestly just say that and not expect your ass to be handed to you," Kurt shook his head at New Directions newest scandal. Sighing, he tucked a longer hair behind his ear and picked the foot back up, stroking a thin layer of plum purple paint over the perfect moon shaped nails.

Releasing the foot, Mercedes lifted it to eye level and wiggled them, "Oh, I love this color! You were so right, it does match my dress!"

"I thought, by now, you would start trusting my color coordination skills," Kurt said, pouting and standing to stretch his shoulders out.

Mercedes pulled him into a quick hug, "I'm a horrible person! But I'm gonna be the _hottest_ Jones at the family reunion."

"I still can't believe that I come home and you're leaving for five days. What on earth am I supposed to do?"

They flopped together onto the couch, each taking a handful of the freshly popped popcorn and watching a muted episode of Greys'. Seven and a half hours of shopping later, they finally decided that it was time to take their many, many, _many_ purchases home. They had to recruit Finn and Puck to carry some of their bags, what with all of the blisters on their feet.

Hence the foot massages.

"Well, you can always hang out with Addie and Blaine, can't you?" Kurt had been very surprised when Mercedes had said she finished all her Christmas shopping, with the little blondie. It hurt some that his best of all best friends had finished shopping, without him. That he had been replaced, in the form of a nineteen year old, short, skinny, café owner.

Kurt thought of responding with an '_I guess so'_. But he hadn't seen Mercedes in almost two weeks, and it just didn't seem right to hide it from her, "I think he hates me," he muttered, squishing a popcorn curdle between his fingers, "Actually, I'm sure he hates me…"

"What? You're crazy, that boy totally has the hots for you!"

"Right? That's what I thought!" Stretching out on the couch, he clicked off the television and told her every thing. From the Warbler's choir room, to re-entering the Christmas dance. His friend listened quietly, her dark face flicking from emotions. Happy to confused, to holding back a chuckle, to honest to god surprised, to mournful.

"Wait! Hold up! Jesse St. James?" Kurt sighed as they went back to the less important parts, "the Jesse St. heartbreaker James?"

"That be the one, but can we get back to the part where I'm lonelier than ever?"

"Well have you talked to him about it? Maybe he saw you hugging that traitor?"

"Mercedes, I love you dearly, but why would that make a difference?"

"Well, we thought he was gay when he first came…so if Blaine…"

"No, Blaine _knows_ Jesse. He would know if he was gay…"

"Well maybe they had a fling or something."

"I would really appreciate it if you could supply some sound theories."


	14. Bells and Whistles

**Hey Ho! My peeps! Two things: OMG MissT! That humiliating. Lol, yes its supposed to be her last name, I knew it was Jones, I just had a horrible blonde moment and forgot. In my defense I was writing it at two in the morning . But, go me for reviewing before posting. As you can see, I'm in a rush...thats two ticks, I better start reading over the chapter better. I'm so sorry for that. . frick do I feel like a retard. Damn it! Thanks for the review, as well.**

**Secondly: sorry for the many updates this morning. I think by comp hates me... but I fixed that last chapter, had to. And this is ready to go, so I thought id post it **

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Thirteen: Bells and Whistles**

**Disclaimer: I wish ;'(**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Waking up this early morning (or late night) was not like waking the morning before. There was no big brother singing or the morning chill to the air. In fact, Kurt was quite warm. Overly warm, suffocating warm.

Throwing the five layers of fire hot blankets off, he stared at the ceiling, knowing he should get up, but not really caring. It was still dark, he couldn't see the desk on the other side of the room, he could tell, however, that his brother wasn't in bed. Which was strange, considering the amount of time he spent in bed. Usually, they were lucky if he was up in time for lunch. Yawning widely, Kurt rolled towards the wall, dragging a single blanket over his legs.

It was only minutes before a thumping down the stair woke him. He ignored it however, screwing his eyes tighter as the lamp clicked on. It was only when he heard the tell tale sounds of the squeak of his closet would he open his eyes.

"Finn Hudson!" he yelled, after rolling out of bed and seeing his brother's backside sticking out, "What in the _world_ do you think you're doing! Get out of my closet!"

His brother jumped back, eyes widened in alarm and arms full of clothing, "You have _a lot_ of clothes!" he sputtered, crossing the room and sitting beside Kurt's exposed toes. "Here, put this on."

"You shouldn't touch my clothes," Kurt threatened, pulling the woolen grey and white sweater over his head without a second thought. In his defense, he was still half asleep. "What are we doing?"

"Finn?" A voice called down the stairs, Kurt perked up, but he couldn't place it, "Are you two almost ready?"

"Be right there, Rach!" Finn yelled, and Kurt rolled his eyes. Why one earth was Rachel Berry at their house in the middle of the night, and what could his brother be planning? It made him nervous. _Really_ nervous.

Finn latched onto his ankles and slid him so his legs dropped tiredly to the floor, Kurt was about to ask what they were doing, again, when a wide, long yawn over took his face. His brother, seeing how stretched the yawn was, went right ahead and plopped a toque onto his bed head.

Kurt stood, eyes drooping, in the middle of the room and allowed his brother to pull some horrendous blue mittens over his limp fingers. Then, as his brother wasn't responding to any of his prompts, Finn spun his brother and led him towards the stairs. "Come on, Kurt. One step, two step, we're almost there!"

"I'm not five, Finn," Kurt snapped, stumbling over the last step and sprawling onto the dirt carpet of the living room. Two hands grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back to his feet. One had polished pink nails, and the other was two times bigger and four times rougher.

His fathers booming laughter woke him up a fraction, and he swivelled to look at the billowy cushions, towards his step-mother and father. They were dressed to the neck, scarves loose around their necks and boots tightened to their feet. Rachel led him to a stool at the kitchen island and sat him upon it.

He watched as his parents stood and collected a cooler and a giant thermos. He watched as Finn gathered five of his father's lumberjack coats, and he watched as Rachel slid a dark brown, fur lined boot over his sock-less foot.

"Whatarewedoin'?" he mumbled, vaguely taking a to-go mug from a giggling Carol and dragging his feet as Rachel dragged him towards the front door. He slid into the back bench seat of his fathers green pick up, frowning slightly as Finn reached over and buckled him in.

No one answered his question, and he hoped that this wasn't a dream, because if it was, he probably shouldn't have had those Cool Ranch Doritos's last night. Something in them must have given him endorphins. But the coffee billowed into his face, and he took a light sip of his coffee, the caffeine waking him up a fraction.

"Is this real life?" he slurred, frowning when Finn and Rachel burst out into loud laughter. His head pounded in a very un-dream like manner, and he knew the answer. Taking another sip, he looked over Rachel and out the window.

Empty streets and sidewalk void of any people. The green light on the dash board claimed it to be five-thirty. "Rachel, where are we going?"

"Don't you worry, Kurt, you'll find out," Kurt frowned as Rachel reached across his lap and linked her fingers with Finn's. He pulled them apart violently and sipped from his coffee. Each sip brought him closer to consciousness.

His father took a turn a bit too quickly, hitting a bump in the road, spilling the coffee onto his sweater. It had been about a half an hour, so there wasn't much of it left, but he still hissed as the liquid hit his sweater.

Glancing down to review the damage, he came face to face with the most hideous thing he had ever seen. Thick, with a zipper up the front and a knitted Reindeer face and a pompom for a nose. Even worse than that, however, were the stripped pajama pants he had bought yesterday. Warm enough to keep him hot on the coldest day of the year. But, they weren't the most attractive of things. Black and blue crossed stripes over white material. Tucked into brown fuzzy boots.

None of it matched, not the fuzzy mittens or the red scarf that had been looped over his neck sometime between the front door and the truck. Most of it was a fuzzy blur, so he couldn't be sure who chose it. But, it was most likely Finn, as Burt knew never to try and dress him, and Rachel was more sensitive about it.

"Oh my god! Finn!"

Finn's head snapped over startled and stared at his younger brother with the most worried expression, like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What? Oh! Are you okay? Did I do that?" he pointed to the coffee that had dribbled down the front.

"No not that, this!" Kurt waved a hand over his whole front, motioning past the coffee and to the reindeer.

Burt chuckled from the front, hand interlaced with Carol's as they turned down a stray road. "Well, good morning to you too, son."

"Do you see what I'm wearing?" Kurt screeched, meeting his fathers laughing eyes in the rear view mirror, "It's hideous! I can't go out in public like this! Oh! My! God! Where are we going? What if there are people? What if there are cute boys? How could you _do_ this to me!"

Finn rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, at the quickly moving trees. Rachel patted his hand lightly reassuring him, "No worries! I don't think anyone's going to be there, but then again, I've never been before, so..."

"Okay. Where are we going?" Kurt asked, frowning as Rachel stole his coffee away, sparing a glance at his jittering hands. "Seriously," he complained when no one answered, "Where. Are. We. Going?"

Carol, finally taking pity on him, swiveled in his seat and offered an apologetic smile, "We wanted to wait until you got back, and then Finn and Burt thought it would be fun to surprise you."

"Well it's not fun! I look worse than last years Rachel Berry. Seriously," he sighed, mocking Grey's Anatomy, but his culture deprived family took no notice, "it's like Mrs. Clause gave the elves to many chocolate chips and candy and they barfed all over this sweater. There is _no_ way I would by something like this!"

"Jesus dude, I think you had too much coffee!" Finn protested as his brothers hands flopped around in useless antics.

"Your Grandmother knitted that for you!" Burt scowled, slowing the truck and pulling into the shoulder.

Kurt sighed as Rachel clicked off his seatbelt, "Well, that explains more than enough. Gross. So what are we doing?"

Pouncing out of the truck, he stumbled into Rachel; almost face planting into a snow bank, but a fist wrapped around the back of his (ugly) sweater. "Oppsie! So-rry!"

"I'm never giving you caffeine again," Carol chuckled, ducking tightly to her husband's side before leading the teenagers deeper into the woods. Kurt followed obediently behind them, chuckling as a gentle gust of wind shook tiny diamonds from the tree branches.

"So..." he sang, making the note last for a few paces, "what _are _we doing?"

"Picking a Christmas tree out, silly! Unless you wanted me to put your presents under the couch?"

"We're getting a tree!" Kurt screamed, scaring a bird off a branch and laughing joyfully as the snow fell onto his father's hat clad head. Grinning evilly, his father swooped down and plucked a layer of snow, shaping it quickly into a ball.

Seeing it coming, Kurt ducked behind a wide tree, laughing loudly when the snow hit Finn smack dap in the middle of the chest, startling him out of staring at his girlfriend. "Ouch!" he complained, and his step-father yelled a quick sorry from the feet ahead of them.

"It's not my fault," Kurt complained, skipping after his parents when Finn glowered at him, "Serves you right for having no fashion sense."

"Oh!" Rachel squealed excitedly, racing off to the right and interrupting the brothers glaring contest. Finn ran quickly after her, and Kurt followed, "Look at this one!"

Kurt followed Rachel's excited gaze, to one of the thinnest pine trees he had ever had the misfortune of seeing. "Are you kidding me? You'll get, like, two baubles on that before it topples."

"It looks like something out of Charlie Brown," Finn agreed, patting his girlfriend lightly on the shoulder, "Just you wait, we'll have the biggest, fluffiest, greenest tree out there."

Kurt led the way in his parent's foot prints, "We can sing Christmas carols when we string the lights-"

"And I can teach you guys how to make popcorn strings-"

"And Carol can make Gingerbread men, she makes the best ones-"

"And Burt'll have the fire place roaring-"

"And because it's your first Christmas, we'll let you put the star on top-"

"Except, you might not be able to reach, 'cause the tree's going to be so big-"

"We can get a stool-"

"Oh! My dads taught me how to make homemade apple cider! I could make it for you guys!"

"Oh, that sounds so good, sugar plum."

"I think I might just barf from the cuteness of you too," Kurt sighed, continuing down the path and trying to banish the sounds of a kiss from his brain. Ahead of him, Burt and Carol walked hand in hand, pointing and laughing at the uglier trees, behind him, Finn and Rachel walked hand in hand, laughing at his ugly sweater.

Being in the middle of the forest, under the sun rise and twinkling snowflakes, alone with his family, he wished that Mercedes hadn't gone to Columbia for a week, or that Blaine wasn't mad at him, or even if Jesse hadn't made plans with his girlfriend. Anyone to keep him company, really.

Just as these thought slipped over his brain, Finn and Rachel ran forward and looped their arms through his, singing merrily under their breath,

_Sleigh bells ring, are you listening,_  
_In the lane, snow is glistening_  
_A beautiful sight,_  
_We're happy tonight._  
_Walking in a winter wonderland._  
_Gone away is the bluebird,_  
_Here to stay is a new bird_  
_He sings a love song,_  
_As we go along,_  
_Walking in a winter wonderland._

_In the meadow we can build a snowman,_  
_Then pretend that he is Parson Brown_

_He'll say: Are you married?_  
_We'll say: No man,_  
_But you can do the job_  
_When you're in town._

_Later on, we'll conspire,_  
_As we dream by the fire_  
_To face unafraid,_  
_The plans that we've made,_  
_Walking in a winter wonderland._

_In the meadow we can build a snowman,_  
_And pretend that he's a circus clown_  
_We'll have lots of fun with mister snowman,_  
_Until the other kids knock him down._

_When it snows, ain't it thrilling,_  
_Though your nose gets a chilling_  
_We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way,_  
_Walking in a winter wonderland._

"Hey! Boys! Rachel!" Burt's booming voice echoed through the trees, "Come over here!"

The trio looked around, slightly confused because all the directions their father's voice came from, but Rachel spotted them far in the distance, waving their arms and motioning them over. Gasping each of their hands, Rachel pulled them quickly throw the snow, laughing and stumbling along.

When they arrived, faces flushed with grins and out of breath from the short jog through the snow. Burt placed a hand lightly over his son's girlfriend's shoulder, "See that tree Rachel? _That_ is the makings of a great tree."

"Tall," Kurt said, stepping forward to walk around it was an accusing eyes, "But not to tall."

"Fluffy," Finn commented, reaching a hand into the branches to feel the strong trunk and shaking it, "but not to fluffy."

"Green," Carol giggled, rubbing the soft pines between her bare fingers and lifting them to her nose, "_But not to green_."

The family of four looked towards their fifth member, slightly taken aback when she joined in and her soft voice mingled with Carol's older one. Rachel blushed, giggled and shrugged her shoulder. Offering a silent apology, as if she had intruded a family moment.

Burt laughed however, breaking the silence and hugging the girl one armed. "That right! We'll make a Christmas celebrating Jew out of you yet!"

"Dad!" Finn interrupted, burrowing his eyes in his hand and wincing.

Laughing, Kurt joined Carol at what would be the front of the tree, slowly followed by the other three, "We got the best tree out here!"

Burt swooped down and started dusting the snow away from the tree and laying down a blanket from the basket Kurt had failed to notice he was carrying. Carol sat crossed legged on it and patted beside her, a silent offer for the kids to sit down.

Before his knew it, his stomach was growling and the food was placed out in front of him. Swooping a hand in before even Finn could grab for a sandwich, he bit it in half. Savoring the mustard and cheese that erupted over his tongue.

"Rachel, honey," Carol offered her a sandwich and a polite smile, "this is a veggie one, I know you don't eat meat so I tried to get an appropriate one, I'm not sure if it turned out great but..."

Rachel gingerly took the food, nibbling at the corner before smiling, "Mhm! This is delicious! You _have_ to share the recipe with me!" Taking a bigger bite, she almost swallowed it whole. "My dads would love this!"

A loud Lady Gaga played from his pocket, startling the members of the plaid blanket. Kurt dug in his pocket, realizing it was him, and Finn had been nice enough to shove it in their before they left.

Clicking the screen on, he skimmed over the message. **Kurt, we need to talk. – Blaine. **It wasn't a number he recognized, so he assumed it was Addison's, but he didn't wait to reply, holding down the proper buttons to kill the screen before shoving it back into his pocket and reaching for another sandwich.

"Who was it?" Burt asked, slurping from his hot chocolate.

Kurt looked at the grains in the bread, frowning before smiling brightly, "No one important." Rachel gave him an understanding look before going back to her vegetarian, _special_ lunch, joining in with Finn's laughter as a squirrel jumped from a branch and set of pile of snow tumbling down.

Having filled his stomach on two slices of the triangle bread, Kurt leaned back onto the heels of his hands and giggled as Burt and Finn had a Pepsi chugging contest. He was a bit worried what effect it would have on his father's heart, but they were having so much fun...and he hated to be a buzz kill.

Carol slowly started packing the remains of the picnic up, placing the wrappers and crumbs back inside the red foldable basket. Kurt was surprised that they had finished off the food; there had been quite a lot of it.

"Feast fit for Kings," Burt agreed, not knowing that that was what had crossed his sons mind only seconds before. They rested for a few minutes, sipping on their quickly cooling hot coco before Burt pulled Finn to his feet and they grabbed the axe.

At first, Kurt feared for all their lives; giving Finn Hudson-Hummel a balde, maybe not the best idea... but he turned out to be quite a pro at it, and it wasn't long before the tree slowly tipped to the side.

Kurt jumped up to help his family trim it, knowing that neither Rachel nor Carol knew –or wanted to know – the labor behind cutting down a Christmas tree. They made quick work of it, and Finn started to drag in back down the path they took to get there, careful not to catch it on any big rocks or any other trees.

Carol ran ahead to walk with her husband, leaving Rachel to walk beside Kurt as he nursed a sliver. "Do you see this?" Kurt asked, holding out his palm and pointing towards a tiny brown speck.

"Um..." Rachel squinted, really trying to see it, but she shook her head regretfully and shrugged her shoulders, "Nope, sorry."

Sighing, Kurt continued to pick at his skin, slowly peeling back layers and exposing the dark wood. Unfortunately, no amount of picking or biting would take the sliver out, and he finally sighed and shoved his hands back into the glove, wincing when his raw palm rubbed against the flannel inside.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"Son of a bi-"

"Finn!" Carol snapped from the couch, throwing a small piece of popcorn at her son and glaring at his fro almost using a _swear_ word. Kurt chuckled when his brother failed to duck, and the popcorn landed in his hair.

Smiling, Rachel reached over and plucked it out, offering her boyfriend a sly wink. He really wished he wasn't sitting in their semi-circle. It was nauseating, how cute they were.

He reached the end of his string quickly, and he frowned at the needle, where had all the ribbon gone? He could have sworn he had at least a half hours work left until he finished the foot long rope. Knotting it quickly, he plucked another gingerbread man off the plate and bit the head off vigorously.

The sun had set, leaving the room to be lit by the flickering fire place. The quiet Christmas songs played from his white dock, and the room smelt of ginger, cinnamon and apple cider. Rachel hadn't been kidding, it was the best damned cider he had ever tasted, and that included the cinnamon liquid he had tried to make.

It wasn't long until Burt and Carol left their kids in the living room; sending out a caution not to stay up to late. Kurt had no intention of hanging about any longer, but he chose to wait with the brunette for her fathers' to come to pick her up. Rachel tucked a long strand over her ear and stared into the flames, a smile playing on her lips.

Finn's hand was over her shoulder, hovering by her ear, and his snores lingered with the crackle of the fire. Kurt found his eyes sliding shut in the late hour, recalling the atrocious time he had waken up at.

"Rachel?" he asked, clutching the hot ceramic mug to his chest, letting the cider's warm spread to his nose, "have you ever... had... dream where you think it's Finn... but then you realize its not and your really happy with this person that's not Finn?" he could only hope she understood his jumble of words.

Pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her thin legs, she thought for a moment before replying carefully. "Yes... there was this one, back when Finn and I had that ridiculous fight," she glanced over her shoulder and smiled softly when her boy toy didn't budge at the mention of his name, "I had tried to... you know... with Noah. But he wouldn't, and then that night, when I was asleep and dreaming, we did. And I enjoyed it. I don't think I liked the cheating aspect of it, I think it was more like there was someone else out there, in the big ol' world that would tolerate me."

Kurt found this scattered reply to be much more helpful than Mercedes insistence that Jesse was gay. It wasn't that Kurt wanted to be with him, it was just the idea that someone wanted to be with Kurt.

He wanted it to be Blaine, and at the start, it had been, but then it had been Jesse. And let's face it, who wouldn't want that hunk for themselves? Maybe the dream had been a premonition of what could have been. Maybe he was focusing on the wrong part entirely, and maybe he should just let it go as a nightmare. But, no, he had to go and act on it and he had ruined everything.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

He realized, not overly flabbergasted, that he had tears dripping down his cheeks. "Yes," he answered, swiping a finger under his eyes and banishing the wetness, "...no. Oh, Rachel, I think I ruined everything with Blaine!"

"It's okay," she whispered, pulling him closer and forcing him to rest his ear to her shoulder, she rubbed his back in soothing circles, humming a Christmas carol in the back of her throat.

Swallowing thick tears, he ran a hand through his hair, "I-I tried to _kiss _him, Rachel. And it ruined everything. We run for the hills every time we see each other!"

To Rachel's credit, she didn't laugh at his stupid frolics, or scold him for being so naïve, or jump away from him in disgust. Instead, she continued to draw shapes over his defined back, changing quickly from 'Christmas Rock' to 'Silent Night'. Like she had been expecting it.

Her cheek met his head after a few minutes, and they gazed at the fireplace, keeping their arms around each other, both thinking of the important men in their lives. Yellow headlights flashed through the living room curtains, and Kurt sighed as Rachel pulled away, shivering against the sudden cold.

Kurt walked her silently to the door, taking one of his cashmere scarves and wrapping it around her neck before pressing a quick peck to her cheek, "Maybe you could come next week when we do spa night?"

"That sounds like fun, thank you," she whispered, shoving her feet into her thick winter boots. Kurt bit his lip to keep from throwing a scornful glare at the hideous apparel. "And maybe, Kurt, maybe you should just _talk_ to him."

The door shut inaudibly on his astonished eyes, and he turned slowly back into the room. Maybe she was right, what harm could talking do?

Picking stealthily threw the room; Kurt waved out a hand-quilted blanket and billowed it over his brother gently, holding back laughter when it wasn't nearly longer enough to cover his feet. He clicked the Christmas lights, gathered his iPod, and shut the lights off before finally heading back to bed.

His feet dragged behind him as he stumbled through the darkness to his bed, to exhausted to go through his face routine, and burrowed back into the warmth of his blankets. What harm could talking do?


	15. Love Songs and Facials

**Thanks for your reviews everyone, and Izzy, sorry I didn't end up using endless love...**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Fourteen: Love Songs and Facials**

**Disclaimer: I try not to think about not owning it, thanks**

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

Waking up in the morning had seemed to become a ritual to Kurt's morning, it scheduled him. Well, he'd have to wake up eventually, but how he wakes up is key. Very important.

On Saturday, Finn singing with him, it was so nice. And the day only got better from there. His feet still felt good – looked amazing – from the pedicure.

On Sunday, yesterday, even though he had been woken up at an ungodly hour, the day had turned out perfect anyways. Their tree looked great, Rachel had a blast, and the first Christmas of the Hudson-Hummel family was official under go.

Today, this Monday morning, when his parents were _supposed_ to be working; someone had to work the garage. But he heard his father's booming laughter down the stairs, and another like bells follow quickly.

Finn groaned and pulled his old, beat up blanket over his head, mumbling something inaudibly. He must have moved back to his head sometime in the night. Kurt frowned into the sunlit room, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and digging his knuckles deeper into his ocean blue eyes to banish a headache.

The laughter continued, and his pulsing brain complained, pushing against his forehead. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, wincing when the bright white lights flashed in his eyes.

The hot water was somewhat soothing, and when he stepped out of the black curtains, into the steam, filled room, the ache became a dull throb. Leaning against the sink counter, he inspected his face and started on a ruthless morning ritual.

"Should have washed last night," he muttered under his breath, observing a tiny zit just by his cheek bone. He placed a thick green paste on it and started to blow dry his hair, pleased with the way his hair waved in the current. "Self absorbed bastard."

By the time he left the room, his face was back to its usual perfect condition, and his hair fell beautiful to his ears. Sparing a glance at his brother, he pulled tight blue faded jeans over his knees, and a light blue argyle sweater. Before strolling up the stairs.

He was surprised to find his father at the kitchen table in his work coveralls and laughing along with something a petite blonde had told him. It shocked Kurt to see the girl dressed so casually, usually she had some strange array of colors. But he snuck up behind her hand placed cold hands over her eyes all the same.

Laughing, she turned and caught him in a bone crushing hug. He returned it whole-heartily before stepping away and swiping a banana off the counter, peeling it quickly and tapping Addison lightly on the knee with his foot.

"So, what have you been up too?"

Groaning, she flopped onto the counter – quite at home and sighed, "I've been up to my pits with work at the Giraffe. Some boy bands been playing and they've pulled in a lot of customers. I regret opening just before the holidays." Kurt chewed the rough fruit and rubbed his fingers together with his free hand, "True, we're billionaires."

"Okay, Kiddo, I got to run," Burt called, ruffling his son's hair fondly and walking towards the front door, "don't stay out to late!"

"Have fun at work dad! Call if you need an extra hand!" His offer was lost as the door slammed forcefully shut. "So? What's up?"

"Well, it's my day off, so I was thinking we should hang out and maybe hit up the mall?" Kurt grinned and nodded excitedly, walking to the garbage to throw out his peel, "I have to find something for Blaine... he's so stubborn, won't tell me what he wants. I told him _exactly_ what I want."

"Well, I've yet to find Finn something... maybe we can go together and just them a big ol' nothing."

"I heard my name," Finn mumbled, joining them in baggy jeans and his football sweater.

Kurt offered him a cup of coffee, in which he took gratefully and gulped it down, "Don't worry about it..."

"Mkay. Hey Ad-" her name was lost in a wide yawn, and she giggled before waving happily over the counter.

"When do you want to go?" Kurt asked, slipping onto a stool with a smile and a cup cradled lightly in his hand.

Addie looked down to the counter and fiddled with a colorful keychain, before whispering sheepishly, "Actually... I need Finn's help lifting something." Finn nodded drowsily and let out another yawn "So maybe we could get that done now and we could met you at the park in, say, a half an hour?"

"Sounds good! I'll see you there!

"Alrighty! Let's go Finnegan," she had to practically drag the little giant to his feet and towards the door, much too cheerful for the morning. Kurt watched the bright red car peel quickly away from the curb and spin down the street.

When they were gone from sight, he sighed loudly and grabbed his phone off the counter top, scrolling quickly through his contact to the desired name. It rang twice before being picked up with a groggy 'hello'.

"Hey Rachel! I need your help!"

"_Kurt."_ The voice perked up, and he imagined her sitting up in her pink bed, clutching to a pillow, "_help with what?"_

"What should I wear? I'm going out with Addie and I don't know what to wear, I've got a decent enough outfit on but-"

"_You're calling to get fashion advice from me?"_

"Well... actually...no. I think I'm going to see Blaine today, and I need to know what to say to him. I don't know what to say. And it was kind of you're idea, so I thought-"

"_You don't need to plan out everything, you know. Go with the flow. Just say something along the lines of 'sorry I almost kissed you, I'm really sorry and I didn't mean any of it. But you were kind of an ass for ignoring me all these days.'"_

"I'm _not_ saying that!" he objected, choosing to focus fully on the 'go with the flow'. That's what he had decided the other day, after all, and he should stick with it. "you're not being very helpful!"

"_If that so, I'm going back to bed. G'night Kurt."_

"Rachel? Rachel!"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Twenty minutes later, he sat in his Navigator, biting into a bagel he had stopped to buy, and waiting for his company to show up. It would be nice, just to walk the empty paths, pleasant really.

Glancing out his passenger window, he was greeted with the sight of a beat up black car parking beside him, "Oh," he moaned, quickly looking away, "please don't see me, please don't see me."

A sharp knock against the glass declared that he had, in fact, seen him. Holding back another growl, his finger slid down the beige leather to the lock/unlock button, and he winced as the door clicked open.

"Hey, Kurt! Addie said she was going to get Finn's help, but I didn't think that she would recruit you on this crazy walk." Blaine greeted as he slid into the leather seat and happily clicked on recognizable buttons. He sighed happily as the seat heated up.

To say Kurt was confused would be an understatement. He was baffled, astonished, flabbergasted, astounded, and bewildered. He had been sure that the slightly taller teen would enter to lecture and/or yell at him. But he hadn't; instead, he acted like nothing had happened. Like it was back in his dorm, before the annoying room mate and before things got awkward.

"Well..." he mumbled, looking anywhere but the other side of the vehicle, "don't have much else to do."

Blaine let out a slightly discomfited laugh, staring determinedly out the window, "I figured you would be hanging out with Mercedes or Jesse-"

"Mercedes is at a family reunion in Columbus," he quickly supplied, glancing out the rearview mirror in hopes that the red vehicle would soon arrive, because this was getting to uncomfortable to bare "why would I want to hang out with Jesse?"

"Oh, I just saw you guys hugging... so I thought that he, like, askedyououtorsomething."

Kurt gawked and frowned at his friend, piecing the mumbled words quickly apart and making sense of the gibberish, "Uh, no we aren't dating or anything like that. It was a friend hug, for, you know, friends." _Wow, Kurt! Real smooth!_

"Oh." The single word echoed around the vehicle for a moment before Kurt burst out laughing, clutching tightly at the wheel and gasping for air.

"I can-t b-believe you thought...that you thought...Jesse and- Jesse and _me_. Ew!" Was he imagining that or had relief flashed over his friends perfectly sound features? _Probably thankful that it's not weird anymore between us,_ Kurt reasoned.

Blaine joined in laughing, though it was more to be polite and at how purple his crushes face had gone. He found himself wishing he wasn't such a coward, and that he could just reach over and smooch his friend sense less, but a red car pulled on the other side of the vehicle, and Finn bounced out, followed closely by Addie and George.

"Oh my goodness!" Kurt gushed as he jumped out of the door. That was one reason Blaine hadn't wanted Addie to bring George- the dark locks were so damned adorable that you couldn't help but fall in love the second you seen them.

Blaine wished he could capture Kurt's attention like that. Just by jumping around in the snow, tongue rolling out of the wolfish grin and eat up the hugs from the petite soprano. He joined his friends and his sister at the hood of the Navigator, where Kurt had been forced to the ground to endure sloppy kisses.

Finn chuckled darkly but winced when George changed directions and dove for him. Luckily, he was a fair amount sturdier than his smaller brother, so he didn't immediately go crashing to the ground.

"Where on earth did you get such an adorable puppy?" Kurt asked, popping next to his elbow and causing his heart to flutter happily in his chest. He loved the way his friend could jump back from everything. He loved the way the light brown hair caught in the slight breeze, and he loved the tinkering laugh from the handsome boy.

His sister smiled brightly, cheeks flushed with happiness, "my adorable brother gave her to me for Christmas! Isn't he adorable?"

"He sure is," Kurt whispered to Addie's back. Blaine froze; literally. His heart stopped and his eyes cracked wide, before he remembered to breath. Had Kurt meant that? No, he had probably just missed the fact that _George_ was a _girl_. So the _he's_ cute must have just been a slip of the tongue. _Don't think about his tongue!_ Blaine scowled, trudging after his sister.

Kurt had noticed this strange, wooden Blaine, but chose not to say anything and feign interest in the puppy before him. Mixed black and white coat, tiny little legs, and the most endearing feature; mixed matched eyes. One green, one blue. Tell tale signs of a tiny husky.

Finn raced off after the dog, laughing merrily along with Addie as they raced after a pink tennis ball. Now he knew the reasoning behind meeting at the park; it wasn't to clear their heads, and it wasn't to frolic through the snow. It was to stretch the little puppy legs. And maybe (he chose to be in denial about it) lighten the air around the two boys.

He had to admit it, Addison was pretty clever, distracting Finn with the puppy and meeting them ten minutes later than they had planned; it gave him a convenient amount of time to fix things with Blaine.

They trudged in silence through the ice, listening to the laughter and the barks go quieter and quieter as they were left along on the snow covered hills. And for once since their meeting, it wasn't a self-conscious silence, it was a enjoyable one.

His mitten-less fingers (it was actually quite warm, so he opted out on them, and he was now immensely glad for it) brushed 'accidently' against Blaine's, or he would stumble over the rocky ground and Kurt would use it as an excuse to wrap his hand around his muscular arm to balance him back out.

They reached the top of one of the largest hills he had ever bothered to attempt to climb, clutching at their knees and fighting for breath. He could just make out Frankenteen's silhouette in the distance, at the bottom of the hill, diving for the ball.

He was aware that Blaine had inched towards him, he could feel the heat from his body through his thin sweater, and he could feel the chilled fingers interlace with his before he was spun in a quick circle.

Blaine grabbed at Kurt's other hand placed it lightly onto his shoulder, letting his own slip happily down his back, "Blaine," he laughed, smiling into the light caramel eyes, "what are you doing?"

"Kurt," Blaine laughed, stepping back and to the side, dragging Kurt into the quick movements, "_we_'re dancing."

It was the most obvious thing in the word, and Kurt blushed scarlet at having to be told that, but before Blaine would let his get a word in – or bring a stop to the fluid arrangements, he started to sing softly.

_A light shines off in the distance  
A pale flickering glow  
How many times do I have to dream that I could be there  
The time is here and she won't be waiting for me to find the easy way out  
I've lost count of the days that were wasted_

There's an answer in the sound of a train  
There is wisdom past the bridge on the bay  
There's a lifetime through the fog, in the rain  
There's a beauty in walking away

With the last word, Blaine released the hold on his back and spun Kurt out into an elaborate spin, causing the white winter wonderland to swirl into a snow globe. His open hand smacked lightly against the soft fabric of his white jacket, laughing lightly.

Blaine freed his hold once again, leaving Kurt to shiver in the sudden kiss from the wind, and stepped into a smooth bow. Kurt watched, as he stepped to close to the side of the hill, he watched as a black and white blur met him head on, he watched as the feet went flying into the air, and he watched as his friend went sliding back down the hill.

Then, when his friend had landed in a very large, very fluffy pile of snow, did he dare to make his way down the steep slope. All the while, the pile never moved, and the single hand that could be seen sprouting from the top of the mound never twitched.

Growing with worry and anticipation, Kurt ran the rest of the way to the mountain and brushed snow lightly away from the panting body. _Well, at least his alive_, he bargained, not at all surprised to see a sly smile snake its way onto the otherwise attractive face.

"Have a nice trip?" he giggled, looking into the deeply disgusted frown.

The white shoulders shrugged, hardly visible against the blinding snow, "Enjoy you're fall?" Kurt was in the process of telling his friend that that line would only work if he had _fallen_, when he felt the icy hand meander around his wrist. When the predictable tug came, he winced as the snow hissed against his exposed cheeks.

He coughed a mouthful of snow out, but of course it had already melted, so it ended up being more of an unattractive sputter, before rolling over in the bank onto a warm, unfrozen spot.

He stared into the lustful eyes, feeling the other's heart pound through his jacket, and slowly lowered his face, glancing down to look at the parted swollen lips.

Their noses met in a fury of frenzy, and Kurt yelped out loud when the snow pressed into his face. Blaine groaned and spat out a mouthful of hair, glaring at the seemingly harmless puppy.

"I regret ever buying you," he informed the slippery tongue as it smeared roughly against his cheek. Laughing, Kurt rolled back on his knees and struggled to his feet, offering a blue hand to help him to his feet.

"Dudes!" Finn gushed, joining them from the side of the hill, sliding to a spot and brushing snow quickly from his brother's hair, "That was totally epic! We seen you from over there!"

Kurt glanced to where he was pointing, thankful to find that they wouldn't have been able to see the dancing from where they had been, at the bottom of the hill. Looking towards his partner, to ensure that he hadn't been harmed in the brutal slide, he met the flickering of angry eyes, and slightly apologetic ones.

Blaine and his sister seemed to be having a silent conversation, and Kurt struggled to understand, but Finn's hulking form stepping in the way, and continued to brush the snow off. Leaning away from his brother, Kurt looked back to his friends, but he had missed the conversation entirely, and Addie was kissing George's nose.

The darkened rum eyes met his, and a smile pulled at the corners of his chattering teeth, "You alright?"

"N-no," Kurt whimpered, mocking his friend and purposely shivering his lips together, "That was really mean."

"S-orry!" he mocked right back, falling in line behind his sister and following her through the trees back to their vehicles. Finn rushed forward to chase the dog, and walk beside his apparently new friend, and boney fingers slid between him.

Kurt looked sharply to his hands and up to the oblivious boy holding his hand, before glancing back to their siblings, who had stopped, frozen in their tracks and open eyed gapped at them.

He had the decency to look away meeting the blissful eyes of George, but his hand shifted upwards as Blaine shrugged, "Our hands are cold."

Addie 'ohed' loudly and nodded her head, rushing back to them and plucking up her brothers hand, "Look at them! Their frozen! You should have worn mitts. Its okay, Finn and I can help."

Holding back a depressed sigh, Kurt allowed his hand to be joined by Finn's larger one, but Blaine wasn't so nice about it, causing Addie and Kurt to giggle, and Finn look confused to the four linked friends, like he honestly thought they were keeping their hands warm. "I hate you."


	16. Threatened Footprints

**Sorry this chapter is late...i have a terrible time at righting Finn. He's just so fricken clueless that it frustrates me. I hope you like it, or it at least doesn't fail miserably. **

**Also, I think this story is about ready to wrap up. But not quite yet...a couple more deets I want out there 'cause they've been in my head from the very start. **

**Also. I don't think I will be able to post for a while D: busy fricken weekend :'( so sorry**

**Anyways. Enjoy and Stuff.**

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter... I lost count... uh... Fifteen: Threatened Footprints**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"Do you _promise_ not to harm her, break her, or hurt her in anyway?" Addie scowled, holding a set of keys in the air. Kurt watched them exchange promises from inside his warm car. He had pulled a sweater from the back seat, no the most fashionable one, he would admit, but he huddled deeper into it and could actually feel his fingers again.

"Yes! I promise. I'll drive slowly. And if I get into an accident, I'll let you kill me," Finn agreed, staring hungrily at the dangling metal. Kurt could see the drool building up behind his lips, and soon, he would match the slobbery George.

Addie slowly lowered the keys into the empty palm before snatching them back, leaving Finn to sigh disappointedly and pout out his bottom lip. Rolling his eyes, he looked down into the tall driver's seat to where Blaine was huddled in his beat up Honda.

Catching his eye, he raised a hand a waved happily, feeling high than a kite. The day so far had seemed so heavenly, from the uncomfortable talk, where they had made up, to the dance, where their friendship had blossomed, to tumbling into a snow bank and almost kissing. It was blissful.

And honestly, Kurt didn't know where he stood. Obviously, from the hand holding and the not running away, Blaine didn't _not_ like him. Obviously, Kurt had worried over nothing for a solid month and proved himself to be an idiot.

At the same time, he wouldn't let himself get to excited, seen as the official words hadn't been spoken, but he still allowed himself to be higher than a kite. And he also had the deepest, bone numbing sensation to just ditch his female counter part, and rush off to call his friends. Family reunion or not.

Addie finally let the keys fall, and Finn dashed away before she could change her mind. Kurt watched as the passenger door to the red car flung open and the puppy hopped in, before honking his horn impatiently and startling her out of the self doubting state she had entered.

"Sorry," she sighed, turning in her seat to watch Finn raced down the dry pavement and out of sight, "You don't think he'll wreck her or anything, do you?"

Kurt took an opposite turn and rolled his eyes, "No, _she'll _be just fine, now, where do you want to go first?"

"Uhm... do you know that book store on fifth?" Kurt nodded his head happily and proceeded to head towards it. Smiling brightly, still a bit high from the events that had led to this afternoon, he ignored the lingering gaze from his counter part. Just as the song hit its climax, she reached over and snapped the volume off. Sighing, Kurt picked at the steering wheel and focused on the snow covered pavement ahead of him.

The gaze never flickered, and he finally fidgeted, surprised to find that the passenger was glaring at him angrily with her arms crossed and her mouth pulled into a thin line, "What?" he snapped, insecure under the alarming stare.

"If you hurt him, don't doubt I'll cut you."

He screeched to a halt, luckily sliding to a stop in front of the book store a gawped at the girl, "Are you _serious_? You're worried about _me_ hurting him? And let me put it out there that we aren't. Even. DATING!" he yelled the last word through the windsheild, glaring as his friend exited the vehicle and walked to open his door.

"Yes, well, let's just see how long _that_ lasts, shall we?" she snorted, reaching over to unbuckle him and snap the keys out of the ignition, "Now, I need to find a Where's Waldo books for Wes... help me?"

Slamming the door, he trudged after her, head bowed and secretly bursting with joy. Really? Addie would be the very first person Blaine would ask for relationship advice. Even over Wes and David, both of which really had no business being in relationships.

Thankfully, when Kurt walked into the smoky bookstore, Addie was laughing and back to her usual self, elbowing Kurt and handing him a yellow book 'Coming Out for Dummies.'

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

There wasn't much talking going on back at Addie's flat. In fact... there wasn't talking at all. There was a lot of clicking however, from game consuls. Four hours straight of Mario Kart meant for sore thumbs.

As his kart feel behind – a usual occurrence – Blaine sighed and threw his arms back in a sigh. George's black ears perked up lightly, but he glared at her. Stupid dog; ruining everything. Here he sat, at the end of the day, kiss less.

As if reading his mind, the scruffy pup jumped onto the couch, quiet a feat for one so small. Scampering up his legs and onto his chest, the soft leathery tongue stroked from his chin to his ear, and again to his eye.

"Ew," Blaine complained lightly, shoving the dog to rest between the couch and his sweater, but resting a hand to scratch behind the floppy ears. George offered a wolfish grin, tongue rolling out happily.

Completing the lap, David stretched back with a yawn, rubbing his shoulders, "When's Addie and Kurt getting back?"

"Yeah, I'm starved," Wes added, not looking away from the screen, but bashing Princess Peach with a shell. Blaine looked at the garbage covered floor; a wee bit confused how he could _still_ be hungry, even after three or four bags of Doritos.

Abandoning the dog, he rolled off the couch and picked up the empty bags, knowing his sister would pitch a fit if they left the room in a mess. "Soon, I hope," four hours forced away from the soprano was too long for his liking. How long could shopping take anyways?

"You're starting to look like a wilting flower, without our little sunshine around," sighing at his friends words; he happily chucked the bags away and shook his head at Wes. How could he be so _stupid?_ Luckily enough, Finn was preoccupied with attempting to find a sports channel.

"I _do not_ look like a wilting flower, thank you very much," Blaine snapped, plopping back onto the couch with a glass of bubbling 7-Up.

Wes chuckled along with David, "So? How did it go?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We're talking about kissing Kurt."

Finn's head finally snapped around, eyes wide with much resemblance to an owl, except, owls generally didn't shoot daggers with their glares. Blaine fidgeted on the couch, pulling the husky over for some amount of protection and to keep his hands busy.

Wes chuckled darkly, but David at least looked embarrassed and remorseful. For a whole two minutes, no one moved. No one spoke; even the television had been muted. It was uncanny, and Blaine was afraid that the overly tall teenager was about to jump him.

But instead, the look of pure shock and horror flicked to a sideways grin, and the breath he hadn't known he was hold rushed out from between his cheeks, "That's good dude, Kurt deserves someone nice."

"What?" Wes gapped, glaring between the two, dumbfounded; he had been looking forward to a fight, he even held his hand ready for popcorn. "Kurt's your little bro! And Blaine's trying to jump his bones! Do something! Through a fit, you're fists, _anything_."

Blaine ground his teeth in frustration, some friends he had. So ready to throw him under the bus, but when he stashed his room with sweets, they were the two nicest people on the face of the earth. Glancing remorsefully to Finn, he shrugged without bothering to correct Wes. Truth be told, he did want Kurt. He had since the staircase, and he always would.

"Whatever dude. Kurt talks about you _all. The. Time._ And he really needs to get some," at this, the Dalton boy's jaws popped open, David even snorted, "But that doesn't mean if you hurt him, I wont hunt you down, gouge your eyes with a toothpick and burry you so fucking deep they'll never find you."

A toothpick, really? That's how creative he was? Sighing Blaine held two fingers to ear, and pledged, "Should we ever get together-"

"You will."

"I will never, ever, _ever_ hurt Kurt Hummel. He means too much to me."

It was good thing that Wes hadn't interrupted anymore, because as the last word rang around the room, the door flew open and two hysterical bag filled arms burst through the door, and behind them, popped a blond head, and beside it, a brunette. Cheeks rosy and eyes dancing, they tumbled the packages to the ground.

George darted off the couch and was the first to greet them, happily jumping to nip at fingers and rustle through bags. Addie tapped her nose with a scowl and dropped her bags to the floor and struggled to shut the door.

Blaine didn't pay to much attention to his sister's furious antics, choosing to watch as Kurt limped into the 'living room', his bags and boxes pilled neatly by the closet. Flopping onto the couch, a scarce cushion away from the curly haired Warbler, he stretched miserably and rolled his neck onto the armrest, bending his knees so his Christmas socks dug into the middle seat.

"How was shopping?" Blaine inquired a whisper under the yells for food, "Did you buy a lot?"

The couch all but shook at Kurt's long-winded sigh, "It was crowded, people continued to enter my personal bubble. And did you _see_ the amount of bags we had to lug up those hideous stairs? I think I re-bought half of my presents!"

"Oh good," Wes called, looking over from his bean bag chair, "So I'll get something good."

"You know what you're getting from me?" the girl re-entered the room, having quickly hung up her marshmallow of a coat, and flounced down beside him. Wes shook his head eagerly with more excitement than a five year old on the first day of school, "You get to give me a foot massage," she plopped her feet onto his lap, bare of socks, and wiggled her toes, "You can start know."

Kurt giggled at the horrified expression on the Asian's face, and Blaine couldn't help but laugh along. The light, happy sound was contagious, and it didn't help that Kurt laughing was the most adorable thing in the world, especially when his hair was hanging loosely over the armrest and his perfect, pale throat was exposed like that.

"Please Wes?" she asked again, getting out a plump red lip, "my feet really, really, really, really, realllly hurt."

Wes shoved the feet from his lap and crossed his arms angrily, his own lip jetting out in a pout, "No way in hell." Reaching over, he clicked the mute off the t.v. and attempted to drown her whimpers out.

"_You're_ feet hurt? Try wearing Dolce & Gabbana for four hours straight."

Well, that's all the prompting that Blaine needed to grab the green elf feet, pull them onto his lap, rip the sock off and start thumbing the red skin. It was surprising how soft they were, smooth and perfect...and painted.

"Well, that's just not fair!" Addison complained, bouncing to her feet and hooking her hands to her waist, "You're doing that just to spite me! Well, I won't stand it! I'm going to make delicious pizza and I'm _so_ not giving either of you a piece!"

Wes jumped to his feet as she crossed into the flats kitchen, no doubt to beg for food, and Finn joined in as well, although he hadn't eaten any of the chips. "Addie, Addie? I get pizza though, right? Because I'm awesomesauce and stuff?"

"We'll see. Here David, can you help me roll this dough out? I don't trust these to imbeciles – no offence, Finn – with a rolling pin."

Sighing, David slowly stood from the couch, avoiding Blaine's thankful look and the pink blush that crept up Kurt's neck, "Sure Addie. Might as well."

"Addie?" Kurt called, shifting his position on the couch ever so slightly, "Do you want me to help?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when she replied with a hasty 'no'. Shrugging, Blaine reached for the remote and flicked the channel from The Shopping Network to The Ultimate Cake Boss. Sighing contently, he passed his couch-potato friend and pillow, in which he quickly placed behind his back, cushioning Kurt that much closer to him.

His hands lingered lightly on the feet, which had yet to move from his knees, before kneading into them happily. He pretended to watch the show, faked interest in the elaborate birthday cakes and commented off handedly at the colors of the icing. But his mind was anywhere but.

Just as his hands worked their way to the arch in the small, pedicure feet, Kurt let out a throaty moan. Blaine schooled his hormones, pausing momentarily in the massage to keep from flipping the feet off the couch and straddling over his friend.

It wasn't long until Kurt pulled his feet up and slid back up the couch, into a sitting position and on the middle cushion. He couldn't tell what the slightly shorter boy was thinking, but he readjusted himself for the millionth time, each one bringing his a hair closer.

By the time the pizza was presented to them (all anger forgotten) and an animated Christmas story started to play, their thighs were pressed close together, and Blaine's arm had somehow snaked its way over the top of the couch, the hand resting lightly beside Kurt's shoulder, and he, in turn, leaned slightly onto Blaine's side.


	17. Rosemary

**So, I'm thinking this chapter, and the next one, and FIN. As in Finish, not Finn Hudson... Uhm... oh yeah. So this is like a major jump, but really everyone had to see it coming. Like, **_**dur**_**. So, I apologize if I loose some people here. Also, I apologize that this is so late. I've come down with something quiet hero worthy. I type a paragraph and fall asleep. Its fricken awesome. I shall post this, without re-reading it. This is a great risk, I am aware. I also want to go back to bed. So, I hope you enjoy, and I am quite aware that the beginning is fairly vague, in terms of flashbacks(italics) and kind of a jump in time...but... w.e.**

**Oh an if anyone cares, the movie is 'A Knights Tale' it like, the best fricken movie in the world. If you haven't seen it, go see it now. That's an order. **

**Christmas Shoes**

**Chapter Sixteen : Rosemary**

**Disclaimer: I wish ;'(**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

He couldn't decide if he was _extremely_ excited; or _tremendously _nervous.

Either way, it felt as though his heart was about to leap out of his chest. His fingers couldn't hold still, and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Every time he returned to the full-length mirror, his heart let out a painful _thud_.

It was just so hard to decide what to wear. Casual? Or Formal? He had to look absolutely perfect. He wouldn't like anything less, and neither would Blaine. He was going to have a perfect night, and he needed to look equally as spectacular.

_Slamming the door behind his exit, he hummed happily to a song that had previously been on the radio. 'Love for the Ages'. Completely ironic, and completely cliché. He had seen the beat up black car parked at the curb, just off the garage, but hadn't thought anything of it. _

_Smiling, and breaking into the chorus, he clicked open the shiny brass doors handle, carefully fixing his bangs in the reflection off the glass. It turned out to be a very, very good thing to do because the owner of the old Ford stood from his spot in the living room. _

_The hum stopped in his throat. Choking him happily at the sight; tight blue jeans and even tighter white tee that hung to all the right places, to all the right muscles. Bunching slightly as he struggled to stand from the rocking chair. _

_He looked quickly to his father before swiftly dropping his keys into the wicker basket above the shoe rack. Slowly untying his show laces and trying to calm his racing heart. The way Finn's eyes scrunched up with a secret, the hand that was placed before Carol's giggling mouth, and the tight warning of a smile on his fathers face, it unnerved him. _

_Swallowing dryly, he stepped into the living room, hoping like hell he didn't have cheese salad in his teeth. Swiping a quick tongue over his teeth, he cast a quick frown in his friend's direction. _

_Blaine, in turn rubbed his apparently sweaty palms on his blue jeans, making a quick, deep frown cave between his eyes. He wasn't going to... was he?_

"_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Blaine breathed, casting a wink with his preferred middle name before taking a deep breath and gushing, "Will you go out with me tomorrow night?" _

_Oh...he did. Kurt wished he hadn't put the keys away, just so he had something to do with his hands. His family encouraged him on with wide smiles, and his father even added a terse nod. It was only when Blaine shifted from foot to foot did he realized he had yet to answer. _

_Taking a step forward, he wrapped his arms tightly around his ex-friend turned friend in a hug a grinned a ridiculous grin, "I'd absolutely love to!" _

"Kurt, you look fine," Carol laughed, grabbing his hands to hold them from smoothing out his woolen sweater. Again. Tight black jean, clean white runners and a deep red tee shirt, he decided that simplicity was best. He could save the theatrics for a night other than his first date.

He knew he looked good; he wouldn't buy anything that made him feel uncomfortable or that was unflattering. But he needed to do _something_ with his shaking hands. The clock on the microwave red 5:32, but the giant faced clock on the wall claimed it to be a few minutes before.

Depending what clock you went by, his date was either late, or early, because the doorbell rang seconds after the '2' changed to a '3'. His heart raced under his grey and white sweater.

Once, in a book, he had read that a rabbit could kill themselves if their heart raced to fast; if they were scared. He hoped that it wasn't the same for humans because his heart was defiantly racing. Double checking his pockets to make sure he had everything; cell phone, wallet, house keys, and nodding efficiently he stood to answer the door. His father's restraining hand held him back, however, and he watched mournfully as Finn ran to answer it, a sly smile on his face.

"Dad," he gushed, shrugging the hand off his shoulder, trying to keep from whining to terribly much, but failing miserably.

His father pulled him into a tight bear hug before he could jump away. Kurt could feel the smile in his hair, "Carol and I are going out, and I don't want you home alone, so go over to Mercedes after, fair enough?"

"I'm seventeen, dad, I think I can handle being home alone," he stepped away from his father's hold, but shook his head, "but she's going to want the details anyways, so I guess I might as well." Besides, they had already made a devious plan over the phone.

"And don't let him pressure you into anything," Burt scowled after his son, smiling when the door slammed hastily and Carol stepped in to hug his middle, "They grow up so quickly. Seventeen, Carol. _Seventeen!_"

Kurt winced and ignored his father. Well, not ignored him, but he sure didn't acknowledge him either. He stepped into the brisk air, smiling at the boy who quickly grabbed his hand and towed him towards the red car.

"What did you have to do to make Addie let you drive this?" he asked, slipping into the passenger seat and laughing as Blaine ran around and did the same.

Starting the car, and the heater, he smiled impishly over and whispered behind the purr of the engine, "Sold my soul," Kurt laughed and looked, blushingly, out the side window as his house disappeared and was replaced with a busy main street, "But really, she's at the Giraffe, getting ready for tomorrow."

"Oh, shoot, I forgot about the Gingerbread contest! I guess that's why Finn's spending the night at Rachel's... she's entering it too." He clamped his mouth shut to keep from blabbering, wincing as his words echoed around the car's interior, "So, what's the plan, Stan?"

Laughing, Blaine quickly parked the car in an abandoned parking lot three blocks over from the Hudson-Hummel house. Kurt glanced curiously around, confused with what they were doing. There wasn't anyone around, and the red had quickly died from the sky to be replaced with black.

"Here, wear this," Blaine said, looping a scarf around his neck and passing a matching one to the other side of the car. Kurt took it without much thought, placing it around his neck and tying it firmly over his sweater. "You might want some mittens too..."

Sighing, Kurt tucked the black leather gloves over his nervous fingers. In the time it took him to tuck them under his sleeves Blaine had ran around the car and swooped open the door, gesturing into the brisk air for Kurt to step into. And he did so willingly.

The air wrapped around him, but had no effect, for the hand that swept his up radiated heat. The shoulder that passed perfectly over his blushed him with warmth. They walked in silence for a bit, simply enjoying each others company.

It was when they finally reached Main Street and joined in the bustle of the people did Kurt even bother to wonder where they were going. He had been content with just walking through the winter, looking at the Christmas lights on the houses and bathing in his friend's aroma, but now, among all these people, he was curious.

Tugging lightly on the long sleeve, he called Blaine's attention, "So... what are we doing?"

Blaine's light caramel chocolate eyes met his briefly, and he blushed deeply, "You'll see. You'll see..." Kurt sighed playfully and continued down the street, linked hands swinging between them, "Let's grab some lattes?"

Nodding eagerly, they stopped outside of a little café; Blaine squeezed his hand before rushing up the stairs to order their drinks. Kurt sat on a dainty little chair outside, watching as people walked down the street, some carrying late Christmas purchases, others just enjoying their hot chocolates.

It was fairly busy for a Friday night. Busier even with the regular holiday rushes. The sidewalks on both sides of the street were pact with people headed back to the strip mall, or down to the park; ducking in and out of the small town shops. A group of girls walked by giggling, before running up the steps beside him, only to return from the too crowded coffee shop, giggling even more and glancing at the cricked open door.

"He was cute!"

"You should ask him if he wants to get some coffee."

"I can't do that-"

"Shhh! Here he comes!"

The girls lounged against the picket fence, hiding there giggles behind colorful gloves and scanning the steps just behind Kurt. The door creaked, and if he were a cat, his ears would have twisted curiously backwards. Alas, he was not a cat, so he only had the footsteps behind him to give any hint at the 'cute' boy.

The steps stopped just behind him, making his heart race and flutter and a sly smile slip at his lips. A couple of the girls dropped their hands, frowns creasing their flawless foreheads. A white coffee cup was placed in front of his nose; the hand that offered was covered in a padded navy blue coat and thick fingered mittens.

"Ready to go darling?" Kurt's heart did a double back-spring, flipping with joy and laughter when all the girls wore expressions of confusing. It only grew more gleeful as he stood, linking his fingers with Blaine's and strutting past the dumbfounded girls.

Laughing, he followed tightly knitted to his date's side, the heat from the latte and the heat from the hand warming him in the chilly air. He could hear the swooning girls, weeping with lost love. Enviously glaring after him, eyes locked on the locked hands.

Kurt would be lying if he were to say that he hadn't worried about going on a date, in public. And that his heart didn't feel ready to burst at any moment. And that he wasn't worried about homophobia. An old lady screeching of wrong doings; or an old man preaching the bible.

But people just watched them, smiles on their faces when the love that radiated over the couple, bathing over all the others with Christmas cheer, wishes and hope. The colorful lights had winked on, lighting the trees and bushes and house trim in greens, reds, blues and gold's. Each one a different color, each on differently aligned.

"So? Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Blaine chuckled, turning up the road and leading them to the crowded park center. People bunched together, the noises and conversations blurred into one abundant of noise. Kurt was pulled to a stop just outside the circular crowd.

Peeking through the people and there heads, Kurt could just make out a large tree, circled by a foot of people, and though the lights were not on, he could make out the cords wrapped around the large, fluffy branches.

"It's one of the biggest trees in this area," Blaine informed him, sipping from the Styrofoam cup. Kurt blushed, because he knew this. He was born and raised in this town. He knew what little places they had to sightsee. The lake, on the outskirts of town, it shone like thousands of fiery rubies when the sun set. The rock taller than even Finn and wider than the largest halfback of McKinley's football team. Some said it fell from the sky, like a meteorite; the slight hole it sat in surely agreed with this theory. Though some, like Brittany and Wes, believed that it was simply brought down by the aliens. And, finally, the tree. Its soft green needles on the longest, widest branches, its tall, pole like trunk, so thick with time. Names and initials craved in the wide bark, reachable between the branches.

Placing the cold plastic lid to his lips, Kurt took a long sip, only to spit it back out. Where it had felt like five, maybe six, minutes, it had actually been closer to an hour. If the lowed sun hadn't been enough of a hint, the air had quickly chilled, and a fine, shimmering layer of frost licked its way across the grass, crunching every time he repositioned his feet.

"Here, let me take that," Kurt allowed the cup to be whisked away from his hand, and the fingers slowly pulled apart, as Blaine left to through the garbage out. The people around him slowly hushed, a fine whisper of the time sent throughout the wave.

Growing anxious, Kurt looked over his shoulder, but his sight was lost as people filled into the crowd, blurring and blocking his vision. Even craning his neck over the people brought no help.

This was probably an excellent thing. It allowed the giant grin to over take his cheeks, his heart to race ridiculously faster, an excited quiver of his hands and a cheerful giggle. Before he scolded his emotions back.

It was a simple first date. Everyone had a first date. Nothing special about it, just a simple night out. They had done it a dozen times, gone out, that is. For lunch, dinner, coffee, shopping, study dates. Yes, he had been alone in the company of his friend many times before. But this...this _feeling_... it was so different. Kurt imagined it felt like a high. Every thing certainly felt surreal.

An eerie hush smoothed over the crowd, a premonition of what was to come. Kurt bounced on his heels once before settling back down. A tree flickered on in the distance, blue bulbs, and a second soon followed, green and red.

These were in the distance, and a smile played onto his lips. The tiny lights were beautifully placed, and he couldn't wait until the giant lights on the tree flickered on.

But before any of that happened, strong arms wrapped around his waist. Snaking its way under his arms and pulling him tightly into a strong chest. Long, curly brown hair tickled against his cheek, and a defined chin rested a top his collar bone.

As the hands gently stroked up and down his sides, they erupted his skin in passionate fire. Kurt released a throaty moan, much to his embarrassment, but it was lost in the 'ohs' and 'ahs' as the tree lit up. Purple, blue, red and orange lights were lost on the two love birds.

In movies, this would be the time when he turned in his lover's arms and they shared a passionate, rich, knock-you-senseless kiss. Blaine certainly hoped so, for he turned his friend in his arms and lowered his cold-tinged lips, only to have the slimmer boy blush and look to the ground.

Kurt was embarrassed, and tried to look anywhere but his friend, confused on what he was doing. He wanted those slightly chapped, ruby red lips. He wanted the hands on his sides for all of eternity. He wanted to be together right now, under the stairs and the Christmas lights, to forget the awful assault by the football player that attacked his lips, attacked his dream and his need.

Kurt knew that Blaine would understand; that he wouldn't pressure him into anything. Into doing anything. Which was probably the reason two covered fingers tipped his head up, and he looked into the deep brown eyes.

"Kurt? Will you be my boyfriend?"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"So? What are you making?" Kurt asked, crossing his slowly thawing legs and placing a dainty palm to his chin. The aroma was heavenly. Something of garlic and red pepper, with just a hint of rosemary that wouldn't have been noticeable if he didn't have the super powered sniffer.

Blaine tutted and shook a sauce covered wooden spoon in the air, the red paste splattering against the white tiles just behind the stove. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"That's no fun," Kurt muttered, pulling his slim finger-commanded devise out of his pocket and skimming over the text message.

**You and B done that nasty?**

**Nice rhyme, 'Cedes. And no, I don't plan on it.**

**Things don't 4ever go according to plan, boo.**

**Get your mind out of the gutter! **

**Whatevs. I expect u wont b here 2night?**

**Thanks! **

"Kurt? Kurt?" Blaine repeated, frowning over the flats island and staring at his (official) boyfriend. The time the flashed quickly from single to romantically involved was such a leap, that David himself had been surprised. And he was the one to keep his head out of the three of them.

Shoving his phone away, blushing from both the conversation and being caught not paying attention. He suspected, from the tone, that Blaine had called more than twice to get his attention, "Sorry, what was that?"

"I _said_ would you like to taste dinner?" The coy smile that played on the freckled skin was enough to show forgiveness and understanding. That was what he loved, what, _loved?_ No, no, what he meant to think was, that was what he _liked_ about Blaine. He was forever understanding, patient, and kind.

Standing from the white wooden kitchen table with a flourish, he practically skipped over to the kitchen, bouncing up lightly against the marble top and springing a foot into the air, glancing into the high pot.

Blaine, much too quickly, slammed the stainless steel lid down, stopping Kurt from seeing the context. Tsking once again, he dipped the wooden spoon into the other pot and pulled it out with a wave of a wand and placed his hand lightly under it. "Open up," he kidded, bringing the spoon closer to the surprised lips.

"Oh, uh, alright than..." the red paste was pressed to his slightly parted lips, tainting his teeth with tomato and garlic. The taste erupted over his tongue, a mixture of pepper and a hint of garlic. But that was not what Kurt was focused on.

No, he wasn't thinking of the spoon that slowly pulled away from his lips, but rather of the boy at the end of the wooden handle. Smiling honestly; almost seductively. His eyes flickered to the golden cream color he hadn't been able to place before now; lust. It was enough to flare a blush up his neck, to the very tips of his ears.

It was enough to cause Kurt to turn his back to the stove and wander over to the plates. He did not ignore the disappointed sigh from his partner, but chose not to acknowledge it either. He grabbed the ceramic plates and cast a dazzling smile over his shoulder, hopeful it would make up for the displeasure.

"So, I was thinking," Blaine mumbled, bouncing back from the momentary set back, "maybe we could watch a movie after dinner, if your father isn't expecting you back that is."

"He's not," Kurt rushed out, the words slipping past his teeth before he could think to hold them back, "we told him I was spending the night at Mercedes, so I can be here all night if we so choose," realizing what he had accidently implied, he hurried to take back his words, "Not that t-we're going to, just incase, sleepovers, or, something comes up, because I would never dream of, no not on the first date, that would so, no, not tonight, just if-"

Blaine, finding the red-ish purple that had taken over Kurt's entire face almost cute, and the ramblings of an embarrassed man to be endearing, chuckled. The light laughter that filled the room as he walked to pour that pasta into a strainer, and again into a large plastic bowl.

A less than audible click brought the soprano's teeth to a close, in both embarrassment and stupidity. "That's goo to know, because I'm honestly not sure if I can make it through a movie," _without thoroughly assaulting your mouth,_ "without falling asleep."

"Well then," Kurt sighed, pouring the glasses with milk and regaining control over his emotions, his voice only quivering slightly, "well just have to see how things turn out." _Please, please don't have us end up on the couch naked or worse off. _

"Right, so, herb and rosemary bread," Kurt couldn't help but _ah ha_ at the foreseeing of spice, "and a simple bowtie pasta."

Well, it turned out to be more than 'simple'. The lights were dimmed, and the table was covered in a red silk table cloth, a large triple wicked candle flickered in the center of the table. They talked lightly and without much structure, and on occasion, their feet would brush, or their hands would meet as they simultaneously reached for something that sat in the center of the table.

Kurt didn't even blush, when Blaine came back to the cleared table, a slice of chocolate cheesecake in the center of a square plate, and held his hand in the middle of the table, eyes flashing with the flickering flame and chocolate drizzle resting lightly on his bottom lip until he licked it away.

Kurt was very much surprised when the clock struck ten, and Blaine started to clear the table, piling things into the dishwasher and humming lightly under his breath. They quickly moved to the black sofa in the living room, popping in a DVD, one of Blaine's favorites.

"I still can't believe that you've never seen this movie! It's a masterpiece!" Blaine huffed, sitting on the cushion, close to his boyfriend and placing an arm on the back of his shoulder.

"Never seen it? I've never even _heard_ of it," Kurt muttered, teasingly, and sliding against the couch back and cozying into the hold. They watched quietly for a few moments before Kurt choked out a laugh, "Is he – is he _naked_?"

Blaine confirmed deep in his throat with a _mhm_, his arm snaking its way across the others torso and his chin sneaking it's was onto his head.

It wasn't until halfway through the movie, nearing the part of the most romantic part, a letter to a lost love, the part where Blaine was sure Kurt would melt in his arms, save for, the boy was already melted.

Eyes closed lightly, leaning subconsciously tighter into the embrace and a soft sigh whispering through parted lips in a slight snore. It wasn't long after this realization that a snooze crept into the room, overtaking the dark haired teen's eyelids and slipping them together.


	18. The Finale

**Sorry the delay was so long, I could make up excuses, but I would much rather just post this chapter. Just know that my life has been a living hell as I try to write a single fricken paragraph for all you amazing peoples.**

**And this is finish, because I had to do it. Much thanks to MyIzzyBambi for the idea. It sprouted in my brain and wouldn't un root itself from my brain. Also, for all my various reviewers; BleedingLotus, Scartlett Lady, and all you other reviews that I can simply not fit in here, for my love for yall takes up lots a room! **

**A hug HOLY MACERONY to thedarkprofile, that's friggen amazing! LOL! Your so lucky to know him, I'm officially jealous. **

**Christmas Shoes**

**The Finale**

Something about the way he slept. Feather light eyelashes weaving together in a protective goose-down pillow over where he knew the endless blue eyes lay.

His voice, though unworking, was softer and more heavenly than a fallen angel. And the way his freckled tan arm wrapped around his small frame, as if still trying to protect him from the world's horrors, but his face, his cheeks, chin, nose, eyes, never fell victim to these horrors. So pure, so innocent.

Looping his arms around his boyfriend's waist, their arms brushing against, he pressed his cheek soundly to the soft, sleep-ruffled honey brown locks. Kurt snuggled subconsciously tighter into the hold, chest raising and falling with a happy, content sigh.

Humming quietly deep in his throat, Blaine traced the pad of his index finger over the exposed upper arm. It started with aimless swirls, circles and squares, but eventually, the finger traced over the same pattern. A bold yet sloppy 'B'; a large loopy 'L'; 'A' that took up from the top of the toned arm to the sensitive under; a crocked, italic 'I' and a handwritten, 'N' that flowed into the scrawled 'E'.

B.L.A.I.N.E. As if claiming Kurt as his own, though the boy did not know. But the name- his name- written in the pale skin, spider webbed with blue veins.

Choosing one of these veins, the biggest, darkest vine of blood, and tracing it from the sculpted muscle below the sensitive, ticklish web just before the elephant wrinkled elbow.

Blaine's hold tightened as the boy in his arm squirmed closer. Kurt's silky hair sliding over his own and blushing against his cheek. Kurt's pale, flawless cheek bone met his, feeling so much like smooth velvet leather, and the feathers whispered just below his eye; a kiss from a angel.

Blues eyes flecked with emerald green met the golden speckled deep brown in s furry of passion, blissfulness and momentary confusion.

Blaine trailed his freckles nose from under the eyes to the others button nose. Warm breathe, where he suspected morning breath to be, was fresh and light. He could only hope that his own dragon breath wasn't horrible.

But, just like that, the heaven send retreated. The green flashed away, the cheek flushed and the body warm fled as the body bounced away.

The skin crinkled around the mouth, tell tale signs of speech. But the words never collided with his ears. He only watched, wordlessly and quietly as Kurt trotted away from the living room and into the bathroom, apparently headed for a shower.

Yawning, Blaine stood and stretched, glancing at the red table cloth that had yet to be removed from the white table. And the pots and pans that littered the stove from his spontaneous cooking the night before. Addie would _probably_ kill him if he left her room a mess. She was OCD like that.

Throwing on a white tunic shirt, and dark brown jeans, he trotted over to the kitchen, smiling softly as a high pitched song seeped through the locked door, commanding his attention. He found himself singing softly along while scrubbing a pan, "_You raise me up, so I can stand on water, you raise me up to stand on stormy seas."_

The water in the bathroom suddenly cut off, and Blaine hastily crammed the slightly soapy pans into the cupboard. He knew that Kurt would feel bad if he had known he left Blaine to do all the cleaning, all the washing. That was just the type of person he was, kind and caring.

And yet, he still wouldn't trust Blaine enough to kiss him. He wouldn't pretend he wasn't disappointed. But he was. Who didn't want to kiss their boyfriend? Especially one as gorgeous as his.

Speaking of which; "Uhm, Blaine? Do you think I could borrow a shirt?"

"Sure!" he squeaked, spinning on the white tiles to cast a smile over his shoulder. And then... he ran into the wall.

It wasn't like it was his fault. It was all Kurt's fault, and judging from the blush that invaded the pale cheeks, he knew it to. Standing there, with this damp hair ruffled and sticking up in places, the steam from the shower molding it in strange ways, and water was dripping from his chin to his bare chest. The bare chest that he had never seen the likes of before. Sculpted and pale, slightly rose from the hot water. Not a single hair, perfectly smooth and toned. Dancing, football and cheerleading carving muscles into his chest. The fluffy white towel, his fluffy white towel, the one Addie had bought for him when she learnt he would be staying for the holidays, wrapped tightly around his waist. It was probably a good thing that the door wasn't open all the way, for if it was, he would be falling hard. And running into more walls.

Rubbing his head, he bent to the lower drawer and pulled out an acceptable shirt, unfolding it and inspecting it before he deemed it fit to wear. He kept his gaze fixed firmly to door handle, handing the shirt wordless over, as to keep from entering the steamy bathroom, and, well, steaming it up more.

"Thanks," Kurt smiled, taking the shirt, his fingers lingering over the offered palm and causing a ripple of shivers up his spine. What that small, petite boy could do to him and still not know his effect, "So when do we have to be at this shindig?"

Walking unsteadily over to the couch, Blaine sank into it and rubbed his wrist, looking out at the brightened world, "Well, it starts at eleven, but Addie asked if we could make it earlier. I get the feeling that she's nervous."

"Well that's just silly," Kurt scoffed, coming out of the bathroom in yesterday's jeans and the light blue tee shirt that matched closely to his innocent eyes. He tousled his hair and crossed into the kitchen, taking out a tall glass and filling it with orange juice. "Did you want some? I've seen her cake, it was not only delicious, but it looked remarkable."

He took the glass of orange juice, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and taking a sip as Kurt snuggled in, placing his glass on his knee and his feet to the coffee table. They sat in pure blissfulness, simply bathing in each others love.

When both their glasses were empty, bits of pulp clinging to the sides, their legs were intertwined, and the clock chimed from the wall, bringing them back to the present. Kurt sighed and rolled his head back, exposing his throat.

Blaine rolled off the couch and pulled his boyfriend up, locking their fingers together and leading him towards the door. "Ah, my hair looks terrible," Kurt complained, catching his reflection in the window and using his hands to attempt to fix it.

"It looks _fine_," he laughed, grabbing his hat from a cardboard box all the same, and slamming in onto his boyfriends head, "There, know you look even more adorable."

Laughing, Kurt grabbed his hand and pulled them out of the apartment flat, tugging on the pompoms that were attached to the grey knitted toque. "Come on, Blaine, let's go find Addie!"

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"I don't get it," Blaine admits after five minutes of quiet. Rachel stood excitedly to the right of the table, hands clutched together over her chest, eyes sparkling in that somewhat creepy Rachel-Berry way.

His back hurt from bending over for so long, but Kurt had cast him the puppy dog look and a help-me glare. So he lowered his face to the sugar treat, inspecting it with a critical eye and honestly trying to understand. He just...couldn't.

Red speckled icing on the roof, the ground was a bright, blinding, purple, and there was some sort of animal – he assumed it to be reindeer – but it looked more like cartoon blobby fork.

Kurt chuckled beneath his hand and looked quickly away as his brother glared over at him. Blaine stood straight, his back cracking like a twisted roll of bubble wrap and grabbed for his boyfriends hand, weaving their fingers together and swinging their arms back and forth. Finn's glare turned into a smug smile and he pulled his girlfriend to his chest before she could lecture them about the simplicities such as her gingerbread house.

"Do you see her anywhere?" Kurt questioned, not for the first time, attempting to see over the small crowd that had gathered for the contest. Blaine shook his head, not for the first time, for he had been searching for his sister dear for the better part of the hour. Aside from Rachel and Finn, they didn't recognize anyone. Although Blaine could have swore he saw the red and white McKinley letterman jackets.

"I don't," Blaine murmured into his hair, swishing it softly with the ever so feign words. "She better turn up though, the judges are getting ready."

And sure enough, an elderly man with the plumpest belly imaginable (you really didn't have to wonder why he was there), another man whom resembled a willow tree, and a women in a bright pink jumper, curly hair pulled into piggy tales. Each of the three holding wooden clip boards and blue ballpoint pens poised at the ready.

The first of the men, anxious to get started on the dozen or so houses, stepped up to a podium and announced cheerfully that the Second Official Lima GingerBread Housing Blue Ribbon Competition was ready to start. And so they started, at a clock tower brown building, the white face shining off like a beacon of icing.

The judging took a tedious amount of time, having to check each and every nook and cranny for the proper dispersal of icing. After a few minutes, Blaine had grown bored, dropping his chin to rest on Kurt's shoulder and rubbing lazy circles into the sweater padded sides. Sighing softly and happily, a pale, only slightly flushed cheek, rested on the dark brown curls.

The minutes ticked by, each number on the clock marking another move along the long table, each number bringing the judges closer and closer to the empty spot before the couple. The spot where Addison was supposed to be an hour ago. The spot where she was only just arriving. Blonde hair flying out in a messy bun, eyes shadowed from the lack of sleep, cake propped over outstretched arms and dark haired dog following closely on her heels.

The large cake plopped heavily onto the table, warping the wood slightly under its buff. Addie quickly turned to the couple, barely blinking an eye at their intimate hold, holding back a knowing smirk with a yawn. "Coffee," she barked, in way of a greeting. "Coffee. Now!"

Kurt laughed light and stepped forward, peeking around her shoulder at the cake and glancing behind him as Blaine waded through the crowd towards the concession stand. Addie watched him go before turning and nudging the petite brunette with an elbow and badgering him question.

Blaine laughed lightly to himself as the echoes of an exciting round of Twenty Question started behind his turned back. He should have known better then leave Kurt in the capable hands of his sister dear. Why, just the other night she had tried to convince him that she was the one to set them up, that _she_ was the one to "shoot Cupid's arrow."

"One coffee, please," he muttered to the glaring concession worker, tapping his finger pads to the smooth glass top and strumming change through his fingers. He gazed idly around the crowd, skimming over people's heads and listening to conversations behind him. Something mundane and pointless. Much more calming and friendly than the threat that loomed against a side door. Butch and beefy, red and white, evil smirk and football jersey.

It made absolutely no sense, what would Dave Karofsky want at the GingerBread contest? Well, Blaine was pretty sure just what had tempted him to come, considering he couldn't, or wouldn't, stop staring in the direction of the judges. Who where now judging Addie's holiday creation. Blaine glared over at the teenager, but no one took heed to his look.

Gripping the hot coffee, he maneuvered through the crowd; hold the drink at an arms length to keep the liquid from spilling on his clean clothes. The judges were just moving onto the next, and last, cake when the coffee was guzzled down. Kurt stepped back into his hold, tight back to the slightly wider chest, moisturized hands clapping politely to the third place winner, pink and pale lips whooping ecstatically as Addie accepted the second place ribbon, a red number 2 pinned proudly to her Christmas sweater. Green-blue-grey eyes lighting up excitedly as Rachel screeched her high pitched screech and grabbed the blue ribbon from the judges, only to be hugged tightly by her boyfriend.

"Congratulations, Rachel!" Kurt yelled over the clapping, offering his hand in a dainty high five. The girl beamed and proceeded to stick her tongue out, winking and dancing a shimmy.

Finn plucked a chocolate Santa off of the gingerbread chimney and popped it into his mouth, grinning wickedly at his girlfriend when she elbowed him. "But you don't need it any more, you won!"

"Here," Rachel handed a gold camera in Kurt's direction, smacking a large hand away from her cottage, "Can you take a picture please?"

Laughing, Kurt took the camera and stepped out of Blaine's hold, offering an apologetic whimper as he went to stand in front of Rachel and Finn. Addie looped there arms as Kurt continued to click away and offered a sly wink, "So, you and lady boy do the _nasty_?"

"Eh. You're so disgusting," Blaine protested, twisting his face in a smirk and pulling his arm away.

"Seriously? I spent the night on a hard plastic chair, slept on a wooden table – I have a sliver in my cheek, see, see? And you didn't even _do_ it? After all I've done for you!"

"Shut up," Blaine mumbled back, craning his head over the crowd that had gathered to witness the winning cake. Rachel was pointing out the reindeer and Finn was attacked to her hand, but Kurt was nowhere to be found. "Do you see Kurt? I don't see him anywhere."

Catching the hint of pure worry that had slithered its way into her brother's voice, she stood on tiptoes to look over the crowd. "Over there?" He looked to the questioning finger, following its point through the now dispersing crowd to see Kurt's elbow clenched tightly in David's beefy hand.

"Shit," he cursed, starting forward. But Kurt wrenched his elbow away and spun on his heel, racing back to his friends. Blaine pulled his tightly to his chest, running a hand comfortingly over his back, "What happened Kurt? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, fine," Kurt whispered into his chest. But the pounding heart and the shaking like a leaf, begged to differ. And as he stepped away from the loving hold, the pale cheeks and the tear brimming eyes told another story, "He was just... being Karofsky."

"There's more," Addie whispered, placing an all-knowing and consoling hand on his shoulder, "Come on, sweetums, you can tell us!" But Kurt stood by, stubbornly, to his word. A tear or two leaking down his ghostly white cheek. Blaine let out a sad sigh, wondering how he was supposed to help, when nothing was wrong. He couldn't run over like he wanted to, to beat the jock up. He had no evidence and it would be morally wrong.

His sister, however, who possessed no morals, turned to the table, grabbed one of the cake cowers and hurled it over Rachel's head, a bit of icing flying off to land on the star's shoulder. Years of junior softball, tennis and senior baseball brought excited aim. So the cake landed right on target: on a flaming brawny head.

Karofsky turned back to them, face flushed red with anger and beady eyes popping right out of the sockets. His sturdy feet thundered as he ran over, comical stream spiraling from his head, towards the equally angry girl.

"Serves you right, A-hole," she spat, inching away to back into the table, narrowing her eyes and glaring furiously back at the looming threat. Finn, Rachel and Kurt watched with surprised eyes, and Blaine took a half step forward, putting himself between his petite boy and the bull before them.

"Fucking Bitch, you'll pay for that," the Fury's circled into fists, and was raised and poised for the kill. But not before the castle of a cake smooched utterly against his face, coating it with the cinnamon brown batter, crisp white icing and red and green M&M's.

Jumping quickly away, the laughing girl ran into the tallest teen, and Finn shoved her playfully to the side, grabbing a bit of his girlfriends prize winning masterpiece and flinging it across the crowd, accompanied by the yell of "Food Fight!"

Tables were turned and cakes were thrown, people were covered in icing in a matter of seconds. Blaine, who had been standing slack jawed at the brave attempts, grabbed Kurt's hand and hurried through the people. Ducking and dodging bits of cake, a chunk of chocolate that hurtled by his ear, looking eerily familiar to the chocolate fork/reindeers.

Blaine and Kurt had just reached the single, not toppled over table, and Karofsky went barreling by, hitting it with his hip and breaking one of the limps. They watched in surprise as the bully fled the room, and worry as the table crashed to the ground.

The taller of the two spun in a lazy circle, wincing as he caught Rachel's happy eye, covered head to toe in a red speckled icing, laughing as Finn plunged Addie's face into the remains of her diminished cake, and letting out an angry sigh as all the good hiding spots were taken or tipped over.

"I fear we may die," he admitted, ducking over a rather large slice of cake and glaring in the corner of the room that had thrown it.

"Well, we can't have that," Kurt muttered, clutching the linked hands closer and spinning Blaine on the spot. Blue eyes sparkling with humor. Palms start to sweat with anticipation and worry. He needed this to be perfect. Kurt deserved this to be perfect.

Blaine seems to know, or can guess, what his boyfriend is thinking. He felt frozen as his eyes met the blue ones that he had been dreaming about for days, weeks ever. They were eyes meant for someone who could steal you heart in a single look and at the same time make you feel so safe that you never wanted to look away. Blaine stop registering the cake flying about, all he could do was star and hope that he never had to look anywhere else.

It was perfect, so perfect that Blaine can barely remember the acts before it. He's not sure if Kurt had kissed him first – as he had planned it – or if her gave in, all that he knows is that Kurt's lips are against his own, any lips against his own had never felt so great. And when their tongues graze over each other, Blaine's not sure about anything at all. He feels like he's melting against Kurt's mouth and there's nothing he can do about it.

Its all he could ever hope for and more.


End file.
